First the Governor, the Father: 
He suggested velvet curtains 
looped about a massy pillar; 
And the corner of a table, 
Of a rosewood dining-table. 
He would hold a scroll of something, 
Hold it firmly in his left-hand; 
He would keep his right-hand buried 
(Like Napoleon) in his waistcoat; 
He would contemplate the distance 
With a look of pensive meaning, 
As of ducks that die in tempests. 

Grand, heroic was the notion: 
Yet the picture failed entirely: 
Failed, because he moved a little, 
Moved, because he couldn't help it. 


Next, his better half took courage; 
She would have her picture taken. 
She came dressed beyond description, 
Dressed in jewels and in satin 
Far too gorgeous for an empress. 
Gracefully she sat down sideways, 
With a simper scarcely human, 
Holding in her hand a bouquet 
Rather larger than a cabbage. 
All the while that she was sitting, 
Still the lady chattered, chattered, 
Like a monkey in the forest. 
"Am I sitting still ?" she asked him. 
"Is my face enough in profile? 
Shall I hold the bouquet higher? 
Will it come into the picture?" 
And the picture failed completely.