Female Fancy

Female fancy, male’s counterpoint

Is tatted embroidered stitch

With intricate bastes of knotted

Yarn to form the border’s niche,

A pattern purled in priceless gold.

Art conceived of chaos’ candor

In aimless darts and gentle flits

Is where the maids mind meanders.

 

But then a reckoning is brought,

Concerning practicality,

To bear upon logistic thought

An all of its uncertainty.

When labor’s need is direction

She produces no schematic

But to insist the answer is

That we must throw more men at it.

 

 

 

 

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