Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift br To beauty, Common Sense. To see her lie br With her fair visage an inverted sky br Bloom-covered, while the underlids uplift, br Would almost wreck the faith; but when her mouth br (Can it kiss sweetly? sweetly!) would address br The inner me that thirsts for her no less, br And has so long been languishing in drouth, br I feel that I am matched; that I am man! br One restless corner of my heart or head, br That holds a dying something never dead, br Still frets, though Nature giveth all she can. br It means, that woman is not, I opine, br Her sex's antidote.