Between the Gardening and the Cookery br Comes the brief Poetry shelf; br By the Nonesuch Donne, a thin anthology br Offers itself. br br Critical, and with nothing else to do, br I scan the Contents page, br Relieved to find the names are mostly new; br No one my age. br br Like all strangers, they divide by sex: br Landscape Near Parma br Interests a man, so does The Double Vortex, br So does Rilke and Buddha. br br “I travel, you see”, “I think” and “I can read' br These titles seem to say; br But I Remember You, Love is my Creed, br Poem for J., br br The ladies’ choice, discountenance my patter br For several seconds; br From somewhere in this (as in any) matter br A moral beckons. br br Should poets bicycle-pump the human heart br Or squash it flat? br Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart; br Girls aren’t like that. br br We men have got love well weighed up; our stuff br Can get by without it. br Women don’t seem to think that’s good enough; br They write about it. br br And the awful way their poems lay them open br Just doesn’t strike them. br Women are really much nicer than men: br No wonder we like them. br br Deciding this, we can forget those times br We stayed up half the night br Chock-full of love, crammed with bright thoughts, names, rhymes, br And couldn’t write.