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Sonnet About A Nose

'Tis very odd that poets should suppose There is no poetry about a nose, When plain as is the nose upon your face, A noseless face would lack poetic grace. Noses have sympathy: a lover knows Noses are always touched when lips are kissing: And who would care to kiss where nose was missing? Why, what would be the fragrance of a rose, And where would be our mortal means of telling Whether a vile or wholesome odour flows Around us, if we owned no sense of smelling? I know a nose, a nose no other knows, 'Neath starry eyes, o'er ruby lips it grows; Beauty is in its form and music in its blows. appeared in the Irish Penny Journal of Nov. 28, 1840 - author unknown