237. SEVEN APOPHTHEGMS FOR WOMEN How the longest ennui flees, When a man comes to our knees! Age, alas! and science staid, Furnish even weak virtue aid. Sombre garb and silence meet: Dress for every dame--discreet. Whom I thank when in my bliss? God!--and my good tailoress! Young, a flower-decked cavern home; Old, a dragon thence doth roam. Noble title, leg that's fine, Man as well: Oh, were HE mine! Speech in brief and sense in mass--Slippery for the jenny-ass! 237A. Woman has hitherto been treated by men like birds, which, losing their way, have come down among them from an elevation: as something delicate, fragile, wild, strange, sweet, and animating--but as something also which must be cooped up to prevent it flying away.
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