LOVE'S HANDICAP.
[A daily paper points out that many girls find their sweethearts in print, and expresses the hope that when "a real man comes along he may be as brave and tender, as cheery and clean-living," as these heroes of fiction.]
Dear lady, put down for a minute
That book which you eagerly scan,
Intent upon finding within it
Your perfect ideal of a man;
Its pages reflectively closing,
Consider a moment the strain
Your standard may soon be imposing
Upon some susceptible swain.
Those heroes whose fortunes you follow
I've noticed are able to show
The unparalleled charms of Apollo,
The muscles of Samson and Co.;
But he who comes seeking to win you
May have, for supporting his plea,
A palpable shortage of sinew
And beauty distinctly C 3.
And, unprepossessing in mien, he
May also lack some of the art
With which Saccharissa the Tweeny
Was wooed by Sir Marmaduke, Bart.;
His tongue may (conceivably) stammer,
His heart (not impossibly) quake,
And in stress of emotion his grammar
May even develop a shake.
But pause ere you "spurn his addresses;"
His merits may still be as high
As the sort that your hero possesses,
Though they leap not so quick to the eye;
At the least, you've the comfort of knowing,
Since his heart at your feet he has placed,
That in one thing at least he is showing
A wholly impeccable taste.