TO AN ASTRONOMER.
 
        Upon the Professor we'll waste not a glance,
            Since he has no eyes for us poor terrestrials;
        With his heart can we have any possible chance,
            When he gives us for rivals a host of celestials?
        What cares he for eyes, whether hazel or blue,
            Or for any slight charms such as we share between us, --
        When, his glass in his hand, he can sit the night through,
            And ogle at leisure Diana and Venus.