This golden head has wit in it. I live Again, and a far higher life, near her. Some women like a young philosopher; Perchance because he is diminutive. For woman's manly god must not exceed Proportions of the natural nursing size. Great poets and great sages draw no prize With women: but the little lap-dog breed, Who can be hugged, or on a mantel-piece Perched up for adoration, these obtain Her homage. And of this we men are vain? Of this! 'Tis ordered for the world's increase! Small flattery! Yet she has that rare gift To beauty, Common Sense. I am approved. It is not half so nice as being loved, And yet I do prefer it. What's my drift? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: AT FAIRBANKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A SERVANT TO SERVANTS by ROBERT FROST THE ARAB by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY BROTHERS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS LINES; SUGGESTED BY GRAVES TWO ENGLISH SOLDIERS ON CONCORD by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL EPISTLE TO ROBERT, EARL OF OXFORD, AND EARL MORTIMER by ALEXANDER POPE |