“All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,”
Are but the legacies of apes,
With interest on the same.
How oft in studious hours do I
Recall those moments, gone too soon,
When midway in the hall I stood,
Beside the Dichobune.
Through the Museum-windows played
The light on fossil, cast, and chart;
And she was there, my Gwendoline,
The mammal of my heart.
She leaned against the Glyptodon,
The monster of the sculptured tooth;
She looked a fossil specimen
Herself, to tell the truth.
She leaned against the Glyptodon;
She fixed her glasses on her nose;
One Pallas-foot drawn back displayed
The azure of her hose.
Few virtues had she of her own—
She borrowed them from time and space;
Her age was eocene, although
Post-tertiary her place.
The Irish Elk that near us stood,
(Megaceros Hibernicus),
Scarce dwarfed her; while I bowed beneath
Her stately overplus.
I prized her pre-diluvian height,
Her pal
(James Brunton Stephens)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Mind Poems, Place Poems, Truth Poems, Age Poems, Space Poems, Passion PoemsBased on Keywords: legacies, specimen, overplus, eocene, mammal, gwendoline, glyptodon, pre-diluvian, hibernicus