Classic Poem

Born of a widow tall and dark,
Whose head-piece ne'er at whist errs;
Where York Gate guards the Regent's Park,
There dwelt two loving sisters.

Gertrude, ere twelve years old, would quote
John Locke, and took to wisdom;
Emma (I happen well to know't)
On all such topics is dumb.

The stars that gem yon vaulted dome
Are swept by Gertrude's besom;
Emma, unless when driven home
From Almack's, never sees 'em.

Gertrude o'er Werner's Scale will run
Slate, limestone, quartz, and granite,
And name the strata, one by one,
That coat our ziz-zag planet.

But Emma, bent on ball or rout,
Soon of such converse weary is,
And even nothing knows about
The O-o-litic Series.

Gertrude, unmoved by doubt a jot,
Knows from the " Sketch " of Evans.
What dwarfs in faith descend, and what
Tall Titans scale the heavens.

The grand piano Emma greets
With fingers light and plastic;
But never like her sister beats
The drum ecclesiastic.

That , dipp'd in blue, with lofty air
Men's would-be Queen discovers;
This , dress'd in white, seems not to care
If men prove foes or lovers.

'Twixt sense and folly free to choose,
So different, so unequal,
Can man dwell long in doubt? My Muse
With wonder sings the sequel!

Darts ofttimes fly of merit wide —
(So wills the purblind urchin) —
Emma, light Emma, blooms a bride,
And Gertrude fades a virgin!