How thought you that this thing could captivate? 
 What are those graces that could make her dear, 
 Who is not worth the notice of a sneer, 
To rouse the vapid devil of her hate? 
A speech conventional, so void of weight, 
 That after it has buzzed about one's ear, 
 'Twere rich refreshment for a week to hear 
The dentist babble or the barber prate; 

A hand displayed with many a little art; 
 An eye that glances on her neighbor's dress; 
 A foot too often shown for my regard; 
An angel's form -- a waiting-woman's heart; 
 A perfect-featured face, expressionless, 
 Insipid, as the Queen upon a card.