Classic Poem

That woman's heart is a priceless pearl,
We all of us know very well;
But every pearl in an oyster grows,
While the oyster is cased in a shell.

And many a man, with a cunning plan
To force it its treasure to yield,
Has won him a girl, while he lost the pearl
That lay in her bosom concealed.

Some with their fingers would open the shell,
As if that were the natural way;
Some with the harsh and brutal steel
Would torture their delicate prey;

Others are told that a wedge of gold
At length will be sure to prevail:
But I have a plan—and beat it who can—
That never was known to fail.

Oh place this wondrous shell on the fire
Of true-born Love,—and Io!
'T will open its valves of its own accord,
As soon as it feels the glow.

Then the oyster, as well as the oyster-shell,
The steel and the gold may claim;
But the Pearl shall rest on the burning breast
That kindles the magical flame!