["There are so many things I want to talk to you about." Abelard probably said to Heloïse, "but how can I when I can only think about kissing you?" --KATHARINE LANE in the Evening Mail.] <br /> <br />Said Abelard to Heloïse: <br />"Your tresses blowing in the breeze <br />Enchant my soul; your cheek allures; <br />I never knew such lips as yours." <br /> <br />Said Heloïse to Abelard: <br />"I know that it is cruel, hard, <br />To make you fold your yearning arms <br />And think of things besides my charms." <br /> <br />Said Abelard to Heloïse: <br />"Pray, lets discuss the Portuguese; <br />Their status in the League of Nations. <br />. . . . Come, slip me seven osculations. <br />"The Fourteen Points," said Heloïse, <br />"Are pure Woodrovian fallacies." <br />Said Abelard: "Ten times fourteen <br />The points you have, O beaucoup queen!" <br /> <br />"Lay off," said Heloïse, "all that stuff. <br />I've heard the same old thing enough." <br />"But," answered Abelard, "your lips <br />Put all my thoughts into eclipse." <br /> <br />"O Abelard," said Heloïse, <br />"Don't take so many liberties." <br />"I do it but to show regard." <br /> <br />And Heloïse told her chum that night <br />That Abelard was Awful Bright; <br />And--thus is drawn the cosmic plan-- <br />She loved an Intellectual Man.<br /><br />Franklin P. Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/abelard-and-helo-se/
