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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415737" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Courtship of the Future</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HE.<br>“What is a kiss?”—Why, long ago,<br>When pairs, as we, a-wooing sat,<br>They used to put their four lips. . . . so, . . .<br>And make a chirping noise. . . . like that.<br>And, strange to say, the fools were pleased;<br>A little went a long way then:<br>A cheek lip-grazed, a finger squeezed,<br>Was rapture to those ancient men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, not for us the timid course<br>Of those old-fashioned bill-and-cooers!<br>One unit of our psychic force<br>Had squelched a thousand antique wooers.<br>For us the god his chalice dips<br>In fountains fiercer, deeper, dearer,<br>Than purling confluence of lips<br>That meet, but bring the Souls no nearer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well; 'twas but poverty at worst:<br>Poor beggars, how could they be choosers!<br>Not yet upon the world had burst<br>Our Patent Mutual Blood-Transfusers.<br>Not yet had Science caught the clue<br>To joy self-doubling, -squaring, -cubing,—<br>Nor taught to draw the whole soul through<br>A foot of gutta-percha tubing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, Lulu, bare the pearly arm;—<br>Now, where the subtle blue shows keenest,<br>I hang the duplex, snake-like charm,<br>(The latest, by a new machinist).<br>And see, in turn above my wrist<br>I fix the blood-compelling conduits . . .<br>Ah, this is what the old world missed,<br>For all the lore of all its pundits!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I turn the tap—I touch the spring—<br>Hush, Lulu, hush! our lives are blending.<br>(This new escapement's quite the thing,<br> <br>And very well worth recommending.)<br>Oh circuit of commingling bliss!<br>Oh bliss of mingling circulation!<br>True love alone can merge like this<br>In one continuous pulsation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your swift life thrills me through and through:<br>I wouldn't call the Queen my mother:<br>Now you are I, and I am you,<br>And each of us is one another.<br>Reciprocally influent<br>The wedded love-tide flows between us:—<br>Ah, this is what the old fables meant,<br>For surely, love, our love is venous.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, now, your inmost life I know,<br>How nobler far than mine and grander;<br>For through my breast your feelings flow,<br>And through my brain your thoughts meander.<br>I feel a rush of high desires<br>With sweet domestic uses blending,<br>As now I think of angel-choirs,<br>And now of stockings heaped for mending.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And see—myself! in light enshrined!<br>An aureole my hat replacing!<br>Now, amorous yearnings half-defined,<br>With prudish scruples interlacing.<br>Next, cloudlike floats a snowy veil,<br>And—heavens above us!—what a trousseau!..<br>Come, Lulu, give me tale for tale;<br>I'll keep transfusing till you do so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE.<br>Oh, love, this never can be you!<br>The stream flows turbid, melancholic;<br>And heavy vapours dull me through,<br>Dashed with a something alcoholic.<br>The elective-forces shrink apart,<br>No answering raptures thrill and quicken;<br>Strange feelings curdle at my heart,<br>And in my veins vile memories thicken.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I feel an alien life in mine!<br>It isn't I! It isn't you, Sir!<br>This is the mood of Caroline!<br>Oh, don't tell me! I know the brew, Sir!<br> <br>Nay, nay,—it isn't “the machine”!<br>This isn't you—this isn't I, Sir!<br>It's the old story—you have been<br>Transfusing elsewhere on the sly, Sir.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Brunton+Stephens">James Brunton Stephens</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415737" data-title="The Courtship of the Future de James Brunton Stephens" data-description="HE.
“What is a kiss?”—Why, long ago,
When pairs, as we, a-wooing sat,
They used to put their four lips. . . . so, . . .
And make a chirping noise. . . . like that.
And, strange to say, the fools were pleased;
A little went a long way then:
A..."></div>
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