There was an Old Man with a nose,
Who said, 'If you choose to suppose,
That my nose is too long,
You are certainly wrong!'
That remarkable Man with a nose.
by Sylvia Plath
The nose-end that twitches, the old imperfections--
Tolerable now as moles on the face
Put up with until chagrin gives place
To a wry complaisance--
Dug in first as God's spurs