The Dessert
With the apples and the plums
Little Carolina comes,
At the time of the dessert she
Comes and drops her last new curtsy;
Graceful curtsy, practised o’er
In the nursery before.
What shall we compare her to?
The dessert itself will do.
Like preserves she’s kept with care,
Like blanched almonds she is fair,
Soft as down on peach her hair,
And so soft, so smooth is each
Pretty cheek as that same peach,
Yet more like in hue to cherries;
Then her lips, the sweet strawberries,
Caroline herself shall try them
If they are not like when nigh them;
Her bright eyes are black as sloes,
But I think we’ve none of those
Common fruit here—and her chin
From a round point does begin,
Like the small end of a pear;
Whiter drapery she does wear
Than the frost on cake; and sweeter
Than the cake itself, and neater,
Though bedecked with emblems fine,
Is our little Caroline.
