INFIRM
“I WILL not go,” he said, “for well
I know her eyes’ insidious spell,
And how unspeakably he feels
Who takes no pleasure in his meals.
I know a one-idea’d man
Should undergo the social ban,
And if she once my purpose melts
I know I’ll think of nothing else.
“I care not though her teeth are pearls—
The town is full of nicer girls!
I care not though her lips are red—
It does not do to lose one’s head!
I’ll give her leisure to discover,
For once, how little I think of her;
And then, how will she feel?” cried he—
And took his hat and went to see.
E. S. Martin.