III.
But the lady she was modest,
And she said, “You me confuse;
I have come, O man of wisdom,
To get a bit of news.
There’s a problem of life’s problems
That often puzzles me:
Tell me true, O man of Science,
When my wedding-day will be.”
IV.
Quick by the hand he seized her,
He of the philosophie,
And his answer greatly pleased her
When they had taken tea:
“’Twill be, my fair young lady,
When you are twenty-three!”
At her window, filled with flowers,
Then she waited happy hours,
Scanned the byways and the highways
To see what she could see.
If the postman brought a letter,
It was sure to greatly fret her,—
Fret her so her maid she’d frighten,
If a dun it proved to be.
If it came not from a lover,
Sadly she her face would cover,
Hide her face and say in sorrow,
“Truly he will come to-morrow,
For he knew, that man of science,
And I’m almost twenty-three.”
VI.
He deceived her, he deceived her,
Oh, that too kind man deceived her,—
He of compasses and lenses,
He of new-found influences,
He of the philosophie.
Oh the chatterer, oh the flatterer,
Oh the smatterer in science,
To whom all things clear should be!
Had he taken the old almanac,
That true guide to worldly wisdom,
He would have seen that there was something—
Some stray figure, some lost factor,
Something added the extractor—
Wrong in his chronologie,
In his learned chronologie.
MORAL.
There are few things, one, two, three,
In the earth, the air, and sea,
That the schoolmen do not know.
When you’re going to catch a beau,
And a few like occultations,
In a few things here below,
Men of wisdom do not know;
And to them for these few items
It is never wise to go.