I.

At Two, she is a tiny lass,
And joy she scarcely knows from sorrow;
She scarce consults her looking-glass;
She has no thought of sad to-morrow!

II.

At Four she is a merry maid,
And looks on aught but play as folly;
She can't believe bright flowers fade --
That only sawdust is her dolly.

III.

At Eight, her troubles come in scores,
For oft she is perverse and haughty;
A pouting puss in pinafores --
Who's sometimes whipped when she is naughty!

IV.

At Twelve, she is a saucy teaze,
Who knows full well her glances rankle;
Her petticoats scarce veil her knees,
And fairy frills scarce kiss her ankle.

V.

At Fifteen, she's the pearl of pets,
And feels assured her pow'r is strengthened;
Her snowy school-girl trouserettes
Are hidden when her skirt is lengthened.

VI.

At Sixteen, she's the sweetest sweet,
And dresses in the height of fashion;
She fells her hear 'neath bodice beat,
In earnest for the tender passion.

VII.

At Eighteen, p'r'aps she may be sold
Her lot to share, for worse or better;
She'll either sell her heart for gold --
Or give it for a golden fetter!