The New Doctor

Ah, Doctor, your hand! So! And now, as I hold

This palm that I value so truly,

Here ‘s a bill for your bill, though I warrant the gold

Cannot pay all my debt to you duly.

Yes, I need you no longer; the pain I endured

Has vanished, I hope, now, forever.

You will laugh when I tell you the way I was cured

By contracting a more ardent fever

You have heard how the women are thronging the ways

That lead up to fame and position;

And I know you will frown when I join in the praise

Of fair woman in guise of physician.

As I stopped by a door one fine morning in May,

A song through the doorway came trilling,

And down to the core of my heart made its way,

Like a tonic, both healing and thrilling.

It seemed to say! ” Live not for self but for me,

And your heart will beat easy hereafter.”

So she cured me with song, and with smiles set me free,

And such dear counter-irritant laughter!

Now, given that one has a palpitant heart.

Is not a soft pressure pacific ?

And, if taken between meals, with delicate art,

Are not kisses a fine soporific?

You said, once, my heart had expanded too wide;

So I thought, as it was over-roomy,

I might as well take a dear lady inside —

And ’tis glad now, where once it was gloomy.

I wish that I could but portray you my prize —

All the grace of my dear little singer —

But I stop in despair at her beautiful eyes!

No, I cannot describe her! I’ll bring her!

Now, Doctor, don ‘t envy this rival of yours,

With her pharmacopoeia of beauty;

Since her voice and her eyes work such marvelous cures. To love my new doctor is duty.

By: Charles H. Crandall