Saint Valentine

The Saint with a quill behind her ear,
Or a fountain pen in her bodice,
Of old would have passed as something queer,
    When they worked for a Queen or a Goddess,
But times are not as they used to be
    In this, or in any nation;
For college is setting the women free
    By a wise co-education.
The Press that scatters its leaves as thick
    As the leaves of Valindrome
Sets trotting their pens in a double quick
    And their wits a-plugging like f
The Saint gets left who shuns the mask
    Of the Interviewer & painter
The race to the goal is a foot-ball crush
    And the winner is the sprinter; balder
We have saints with a halo of golden curls,
    And saints with a rosy, apron, towel
A Mother sage, for the queen of girls –