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Eugene Field - Doctor RabelaisEugene Field - Doctor Rabelais
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Once -- it was many years ago.   In early wedded life, Ere yet my loved one had become   A very knowing wife, She came to me and said: "My dear,   I think (and do not you?) That we should have about the house   A doctor`s book or two. "Our little ones have sundry ills   Which I should understand And cure myself, if I but had   A doctor`s book at hand. Why not economize, my dear,   In point of doctor`s biils By purchasing the means to treat   Our litt;e household ills?" Dear, honest, patient little wife!   She did not even guess She offered me the very prize   I hankered to possess. "You argus, wisely, wife," quoth I,   "Proceed without delay To find and comprehend the works   Of Doctor Rabelais." I wrote the title out for her   (She`d never heard the name), And presently she bought those books,   And home she lugged the same; I clearly read this taunting boast   On her triumphant brow: "Aha, ye venal doctors all,   Ye are outwitted now!" Those volumes stood upon the shelf   A month or two unread, Save as such times by night I conned   Their precious wit in bed; But once -- it was a wintry time --   I heard my loved one say: "This child is croupy; I`ll consult   My doctor, Rabelais!" Soon from her delusive dream   My beauteous bride awoke. Too soon she grasped the fulness of   My bibliomaniac joke. There came a sudden, shocking change,   As you may well suppose, And with her reprehensive voice   The temperature arose. But that was many years ago,   In early wedded life, And that dear lady has become   A very knowing wife; For she hath learned from Rabelais   What elsewhere is agreed: The plague of bibliomania is   A cureless ill indeed. And still at night, when all the rest   Are hushed in sweet repose, O`er those two interdicted tomes   I laugh and nod and doze. From worldly ills and business cares   My weary mind is lured, And by that doctor`s magic art   My ailments all are cured. So my dear, knowing little wife   Is glad that it is so, And with a smile recalls the trick   I played her years ago; And whensoe`er dyspeptic pangs   Compel me to their sway, The saucy girl bids me consult   My Doctor Rabelais!
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