What lies I read, that men of strength
Have keen and penetrating looks
That, flashing here and flashing there,
Command success - what foolish books!
For when we go to life we find
The men and dogs that fight till death
Are sleepy-eyed, and look so calm
We wonder if they live by breath!
Love, too, must hold her saucy tongue,
And turn on us two sleepy eyes,
To prove she is no painted doll,
And full, like books, of pretty lies.