Love versus learning
By constance C.W.Naden
Alas, for the blight of my fanciest
Alas, for the fall of my pride!
I planned, in my girlish romances,
To be a philosopher's bride.
I pictured him learned and witty,
The sage and the lover combined,
Not scorning to say I was pretty,
Nor only adoring my mind.
No elderly, spectacled Mentor,
But one who would worship and woo;
Perhaps I might take an inventor,
Or even a poet would do.
And tender and gay and well-favoured,
My fate overtook me at last:
I saw, and I heard, and I wavered,
I smiled, and my freedom was past.
He promised to love me for ever,
He pleaded, and what could I say?
I thought he must surely be clever,
For he is an Oxford M.A.
But now, I begin to discover
My visions are fatally marred;
Perfection itself as a lover,
He's neither a sage nor a bard.
He's mastered the usual knowledge,
And says it's a terrible bore;
He formed his opinions at college,
Then why should he think any more?
My logic he sets at defiance,
Declares that my Latin's no use,
And when I begin to talk Science
He calls me a dear little goose.
He says that my lips are too rosy
To speak in a language that's dead,
And all that is dismal and prosy
Should fly from so sunny a head.
He scoffs at each grave occupation,
Turns everything off with a pun;
And says that his sole calculation
Is how to make two into one.
He says Mathematics may vary,
Geometry cease to be true,
But scorning the slightest vagary
He still will continue to woo.
He says that the sun may stop action,
But he will not swerve from his course;
For love is his law of attraction,
A smile his centripetal force.
His levity's truly terrific,
And often I think we must part,
But compliments so scientific
Recapture my fluttering heart.
Yet sometimes 'tis very confusing,
This conflict of love and of lore---
But hark! I must cease from my musing,
For that is his knock at the door!
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