Unattainable, The

Tom's album was filled with the pictures of belles
    Who had captured his manly heart,
From the fairy who danced for the front-row swells
    To the maiden who tooled her cart;
But one face as fair as a cloudless dawn
    Caught my eye, and I said, "Who's this?"
"Oh, that," he replied, with a skilful yawn,
    "Is the girl I couldn't kiss."

Her face was the best in the book, no doubt,
    But I hastily turned the leaf,
For my friend had let his cigar go out,
    And I knew I had bared his grief:
For caresses we win and smiles we gain
    Yield only a transient bliss,
And we're all of us prone to sigh in vain
    For "the girl we couldn't kiss."