Forever modest and submissive, Forever merry as the day, As charming as a lover’s kisses, As artless as the poet’s way, Her eyes as azure as the heaven, Her flaxen curls, her smile so even, Her voice, her slender waist and stance These made up Olga… but just glance At any novel at your leisure, You’ll find her portrait there – it’s sweet, Once I myself found it a treat, But now it bores me beyond measure. Reader, I shall, if you’ll allow, Turn to the elder sister now.
