"cicely" Bonaparte, 1808

She's strikingly fair in the purest of red Pearls grace her neck, a band on her head Enthroned on a seat plush as is down I just can't get over her brilliant red gown Gazing like Jesus, her cheeks softly pink She smiles like Mona, oh what does she think? She reminds me of my dear Cicely Somewhat straight forward, somewhat a mystery Perfect her posture, graceful her arms Banding her wrist a bracelet of charms At least that's what my Cicely would wear In ten-year-old elegance, smiling so fair God! I can't get over how it looks like her so! Oh where, oh where did my Cicely go?