London Types Barmaid

Though, if you ask her name, she says "Elise," Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass,

And own that, if her aspirates take their ease,

She ever makes a point, in washing glass,

Handling the engine, turning taps for tots,

And countering change, and scorning what men say,

Of posing as a dove among the pots,

Nor often gives her dignity away.

Her head's a work of art, and, if her eyes Be tired and ignorant, she has a waist;

Cheaply the Mode she shadows; and she tries From penny novels to amend her taste;

And, having mopped the zinc for certain years,

And faced the gas, she fades and disappears.