559
It knew no Medicine-
It was not Sickness-then-
Nor any need of Surgery-
And therefore-’twas not Pain-
It moved away the Cheeks-
A Dimple at a time-
And left the Profile-plainer-
And in the place of Bloom
It left the little Tint
That never had a Name-
You’ve seen it on a Cast’s face-
Was Paradise-to blame-
If momently ajar-
Temerity-drew near-
And sickened-ever afterward
For Somewhat that it saw?
