A Delicate Thing Considers Her Swain

I am a delicate thing in a delicate hour--
Twelve is the time
And I assure you that I'm
Mulling on your answer, Sir;
I'll meet you in the bower,
Where my crickets most delicately chirr.

Before that, I have so much to do!
Like wiping out the traces
Like the hanging shrunken faces
Of my suitors before you;
I'll be slaving like a servant
Hide the potion
Stash the serpent
And put on a bashful face, a smiling face,
A suitable face to turn so delicately toward you.

I am a delicate thing in a delicate way
And if you knew what was on the way,
I assure you, Sir,
You'd faster stir
Than any of my suitors who came before you;
They linger in the bower
Right under your feet,
With root and rot and eternity sweet
To yearn for a delicate girl,
A wonderful girl,
A girl too good to be true.
________

for Real Toads excellent fairy tale prompt!