This golden head has wit in it. I live <br />Again, and a far higher life, near her. <br />Some women like a young philosopher; <br />Perchance because he is diminutive. <br />For woman's manly god must not exceed <br />Proportions of the natural nursing size. <br />Great poets and great sages draw no prize <br />With women: but the little lap-dog breed, <br />Who can be hugged, or on a mantel-piece <br />Perched up for adoration, these obtain <br />Her homage. And of this we men are vain? <br />Of this! 'Tis ordered for the world's increase <br />Small flattery! Yet she has that rare gift <br />To beauty, Common Sense. I am approved. <br />It is not half so nice as being loved, <br />And yet I do prefer it. What's my drift?<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xxxi-this-golden-head/
