With a Locket

What can I send to a sweet little sister 
  Kisses, on paper, are lukewarm stuff—
She knows, too well, how much I have missed her
  To tell it again would be stupid enough. 
Love, I have long ago sent to my sister
  There's little left over. Isn't it rough.

Let me then think of a gift to my sister
  I've a notion she wouldn't like cheroots, 
Black & knotty, her face to blister
  And a gentleman's saddle scarcely suits 
The figure and style of a female sister
  Any more than Manilla cheroots

Would she care for an army revolver my sister— 
  Bore 450, weight not small,
Many a time have its bullets missed a 
  Six inch mark on the stable wall
'Tis an unsafe gift to give to a sister
Who shuts her eyes when she fires at all. 

Would she care for a grass-green parrot my sister?  
  Hundreds harry our gardens now, 
Plucking our loquats just as they list, a 
  Band of Brigands whose fort is the bough—  
I am rather afraid one would reach my sister 
  As the French of the school says:—Tray no gow.  

Io triumphe! Eureka,  my sister 
  Bueno! Bahut accha!  ver guten! tres bon(g) 
I will send Trinchinopoly gold to my sister
  And finish my terribly tedious song
A goddess in gold shall be sent to my sister
  May she think of her 'Brer' and be pleased with it long.