Heart Disease by James B. Burnet M.D.

I list, as thy heart and ascending aorta

Their volumes of valvular harmony pour,

And my soul, from that muscular music has caught a

New life, 'mid its dry anatomical lore.

' ' Oh ! rare is the sound, when thy ventricles throbIn a systolic symphony, measured and slow,While the auricles answer with rhythmical sobAs they murmur a melody wondrously low.

"Oh ! thy cornea, love, has the radiant lightOf the sparkle that laughs in the icicle's sheen.And thy crystalline lens, like a diamond bright,Through the quivering frame of thine iris is seen.

"And thy retina, spreading its lustre of pearl,Like a far-away nebula, distantly gleamsFrom a vault of black cellular mirrors, that hurlFrom their hexagon angles the silvery beams.

" Oh ! the flash of those orbs is enslaving me still.As they roll 'neath thy palpebræ, dimly translucent,Obeying, in silence, the magical willOf the oculo-motor — pathetic — abducent.

' ' Oh ! sweet is thy voice, as it sighingly swellsFrom thy daintily quivering chordre vocales,Or rings in clear tones from the echoing cellsOf the antrum, the ethmoid, and sinus frontales.