Methinks I see your mirror frame, 
 Ornate with photographs of them. 
Place mine therein, for, all the same, 
 I'll have my little laughs at them. 

For girls may come, and girls may go, 
 I think I have the best of them; 
And yet this photograph I know 
 You'll toss among the rest of them. 

I cannot even hope that you 
 Will put me in your locket, dear; 
Nor costly frame will I look through, 
 Nor bide in your breast pocket, dear. 

For none your heart monopolize, 
 You favour such a nest of them. 
So I but hope your roving eyes 
 Seek mine among the rest of them. 

For saucy sprite, and noble dame, 
 And many a dainty maid of them 
Will greet me in your mirror frame, 
 And share your kisses laid on them. 

And yet, sometimes I fancy, dear, 
 You hold me as the best of them. 
So I'm content if I appear 
 To-night with all the rest of them.