Tuesday, November 3, 2015


                       Doc Martin isn’t one to suffer fools:
                       With him it’s always common sense that rules,
                       Which proves not very common in Port Wenn,
                       Whose folks have slight respect for regimen
                       Or rationality, to Doc’s dismay,
                       A constant consternation to his day.
                       He should have been a surgeon in the city
                       But for one obstacle we have to pity—
                       He sickens at the very sight of blood,
                       Keeling to the carpet with a thud.
                       For all of that, Louisa sees in him
                       A kindliness behind what looks so prim
                       An stern, opening Martin’s heart to love,
                       Who seemed more like an eagle than a dove.