Oh, oh you will be sorry for that word.
Give back my book and take my kiss instead.
Was it my enemy of my friend I heard?
"What a big book for such a little head."
Come, I will show you now my newest hat,
And you may watch me purse my lips and prink.
Oh, I shall love you still and all of that,
Never again shall I tell you what I think.
I shall be soft and craft, sweet and sly.
You will not catch me reading anymore. 
I shall be called a wife to pattern by.
And some day, some sane day, not too stormy,
and not too bright, when you knock upon the door, 
I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me. 

  Edna St. Vincent Millay
