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Seven Apophthegms for Women

How the longest ennui flees,

When a man comes to our knees!

Age, alas! and science staid,

Furnish even weak virtue aid.

Sombre garb and silence meet:

Dress for every dame⁠—discreet.

Whom I thank when in my bliss?

God!⁠—and my good tailoress!

Young, a flower-decked cavern home;

Old, a dragon thence doth roam.

Noble title, leg that’s fine,

Man as well: Oh, were he mine!

Speech in brief and sense in mass⁠—

Slippery for the jenny-ass!