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Poem	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; Zoe's cheek is far from rough- Don't you think it's time we parted? . . . Fair enough!
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