Chloe’s hair, no doubt, was brighter;
     Lydia’s mouth more sweetly sad;
Hebe’s arms were rather whiter;
     Languorous-lidded Helen had
Eyes more blue than e’er the sky was;
Lalage’s was subtler stuff;
Still, you used to think that I was
     Fair enough.

Now you’re casting yearning glances
     At the pale Penelope;
Cutting in on Claudia’s dances;
     Taking Iris out to tea.
Iole you find warm-hearted;
     Zoë’s cheek is far from rough—
Don’t you think it’s time we parted? . . .
     Fair enough!