And what is love? It is a doll dress'd up <br />For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle; <br />A thing of soft misnomers, so divine <br />That silly youth doth think to make itself <br />Divine by loving, nad so goes on <br />Yawning and doting a whole summer long, <br />Till Miss's comb is made a perfect tiara, <br />And common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots; <br />Then Cleopatra lives at number seven, <br />And Antony resides in Brunswick Square. <br />Fools! if some passions high have warm'd the world, <br />If Queens and Soldiers have play'd deep for hearts, <br />It is no reason why such agonies <br />Should be more common than the growth of weeds. <br />Fools! make me whole again that weighty pearl <br />The Queen of Egypt melted, and I'll say <br />That ye may love in spite of beaver hats.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fragment-modern-love/
