Hail to thee, Granola Maid!
Kumyss cheek and silken braid,
Flower blooming in the shade
Of the Protose tree;
Pious bearing, modest mien,
Hail, my Vegetarian Queen,
Hail, my healthy Nuttolene,
Zwieback fairy, thee!
Set my Glutose spirit free,
Lift they Meltose eyes to me,
Say thou’lt be my Bean Puree,—
All my cares beguile;
Sway me with they grace imperial,
Say thou’lt be my Flaky Cereal,
Beam on me, while charms ethereal
Sterilize thy smile!
See, thy Granut tear-drop start!
Swear that we will never part,—
Give to me thy Whole Wheat heart,
Let the skeptics scoff;
‘Round thy waist my strong arm clinches,—
This is where my spirit flinches,
For thy waist is forty inches—
Let us call it off! (p. 489)