The poem
Men have navels more or less; Some are neat, some not Being fat I must confess Mine is far from hot. Woman's is a pearly ring, Lovely to my mind; So of it to shyly sing I am inclined.
I believe in nudity. Female forms divine Should be bared for all to see In colour and in line. So dear ladies, recognise The dimpling of your waist Has approval in my eyes, Favour in my taste.
Darlings, please you, paint them gold, Or some pastel hue; Make them starry to behold, Witching to the view. Though I know I never should Say such things as this: How a rosebud navel would Be sweet to kiss!