To Her Father, on Her Statue Being Called Like Her
FATHER! the little girl we see
Is not, I fancy, so like me;
You never hold her on your knee.
When she came home, the other day,
You kiss’d her; but I cannot say
She kiss’d you first and ran away.
Walter Savage Landor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/little-agla/
