# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3816/From Another Point of View

FROM ANOTHER POINT OF VIEW.
It is a strange thing that, much as women have entered the writing lists with men, there is one branch of literature which they rarely attempt. Take away Mrs. Browning and Christina Rossetti and you will scarcely find a love poem by a woman, or, at any rate, a love poem which takes the woman's point of view. Probably many of the most cherished sentimental songs which wake the echoes of the drawing-room and conservatory are the work of women; but they write as men. It is always the masculine aspect which is set before the public; the beloved is always feminine. And yet marriage statistics show that precisely as many men have married as women. But during the preliminary period of exalted emotion any love poetry that was written was written by the men.
Surely, as the advancement of woman proceeds, and she adds territory upon territory to her kingdom, she will redress the balance and write love poetry too.
A very few changes in certain of the classic lyrics indicate how near the two varieties of love poems can be: male and female. Thus, why should not "he" as well as "she" have dwelt among untrodden ways? Why should not "he" have walked in beauty like the night? Poe wrote magically about Annabel Lee; why should not one of his female relatives, for example, have written in a similar strain? Something like this:—
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a gentleman lived whom you may know
By the name of Hannibal Lee;
And this gentleman lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
Women must see to it that men do not have it all their own way for ever. Landor was moved to a perfect lyric by love of Rose Aylmer. Is the following any less perfect?
Ah! what avails the sceptred race?
Ah! what the form divine?
What every virtue, every grace?
George Aylmer, all were thine.
George Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and sighs
I consecrate to thee.
George is of course not the only name, not is Aylmer. The adaptrix, however, must be careful that the Christian name is a monosyllable and the other a dissyllable.
Again, in the following feminine version of a Shakspearean song the name is subject to alteration:—
Who is Bertie? What is he
That all the girls commend him?
Handsome, brave and wise is he;
The heavens such grace did lend him
That he might admired be.
Examples might be adduced from many poets, but two more will suffice. A female Tennyson might have begun a song in the following terms:—
It is the youthful miller,
And he is grown so dear, so dear,
That I would be the pencil
That trembles on his ear:
For 'midst his curls by day and night
I'd touch his neck so warm and white.
Finally, let us look at the very prince ​of love poets—Robbie Burns. Two of his most famous songs might as well have been written of swains as maidens. Here is one in which in the most natural way in the world lassie becomes laddie, and Mary, Harry:—
Go, get to me a cup o' tea, And take it from a silver caddie, That I may drink a health to thee, A service to my bonnie laddie! The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-Law, And I mann leave my bonnie Harry.
Is that injured by the change? Not a bit. And here is another in which we have sucessfully introduced a variation of the original name:—
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie laddie lives, The laddie I lo'e best. There wild woods grow, and rivers row By mony a fleecy flock, But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jock.
After reading these famous stanzas in their amended form our women poets may perhaps take heart and emulate them: to the immense delight of their fiancés, who like to be wooed as well as to woo, and have never shied very much at adulation.