A Perfect Woman Nobly Planned

(The man who wants the perfect wife should marry a
'stock-size.' She comes cheaper.-_London Chronicle_.)

Ah, Myrtilla, woe and dear me!
  Lackadaydee and alas!
What is this, I greatly fear me,
          That has come to pass?

Craving, as I do, perfection,
  Loathing anything like flaws,
I must raise a slight objection
          To your building laws.

You are five one-and-a-quarter,
  And your girth is thirty-three-
Myrtie, you're a little shorter
          Than you ought to be.

It is far from my intentions
  Your proportions to describe,
Briefly, Myrtie, your dimensions
          Do not seem to jibe.

Farewell, Myrt, for Ethelisa
  Seems to be my certain fate,
Stupid? Silly? Sure, but she's a
          Perfect thirty-eight.