Poštarica

What a lovely thing, to ply the post-girl's trade!a pretty head peeps from the counter, just inside;jewels hidden underneath her eyelids' shade,with a glance she opens up my soul so wide.

At the counter, when my letter she will take,at her rosy cheeks I cannot help but stare,and she logs the parcel deftly, no mistake —in my town no other woman can compare!

Diligent and prompt she is in all her work,on my little letter sets the stamp with care;tenderly I watch the pretty postal clerk,thinking: what a pity we are not a pair!

And she looks right back at me, the way I do,from her angel's face a lovely smile displayed,then she charges me the postage that is due.What a lovely calling is the post-girl's trade!