Epigram On Two Sisters Who Are Always Quarrelling

Pale is Amelia's face,     And red Lavinia's nose is;     The sisters ever jar:     'Tis like the civil war     Between the rival roses.          *        *        *        *        *     On that dark theme, man's genealogy,     How strangely people's notions disagree!     Sir Snub-nose, growling, swears that he can trace     Strong kindred likeness to the monkey-race:     My Lady Graceful smiles, well-pleased, to find     Far more resemblance to the Angelic-kind:     Sure the reflection from their looking-glasses     Into their minds, to prompt opinion passes.     Would-be philosophers have tried to scan     The pedigree of that odd creature, man.     'We are of monkey-race!' Sir Snub-nose cries.     Your strange assertion strikes me with surprise;     (I, for my part, the compliment decline)     But do you, Sir, sincerely thus opine?     'I do indeed: nay more, I'm sure 'tis true!'     Is't possible? Yet, when I look on you,     I, verily, begin to think so too.          *        *        *        *        *     'Oh! Doctor! I've had such a headache so bad!     I was fearful I should have gone out of my senses.'     "I should not have wonder'd, dear Ma'am, if you had,     You'd not have to go far to leap over those fences."