Project Gutenberg EBook The Poetical Works of O. W. Holmes, 
Volume 3. Medical Poems
#17 in our series by Oliver Wendell 
Holmes, Sr. 
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Title: The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Volume 3. 
Medical Poems 
Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. 
Release Date: January, 2005 [Etext #7390]
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one year ahead of schedule]
[Most recently updated: April 22, 2003] 
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0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF O. 
W. HOLMES, V3 *** 
This eBook was produced by David Widger [
[email protected]
] 
THE POETICAL WORKS 
OF 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 
                                 1893 
                       (Printed  in  three  volumes) 
CONTENTS: 
THE MORNING VISIT
THE TWO ARMIES
THE 
STETHOSCOPE SONG
EXTRACTS FROM A MEDICAL 
POEM
A POEM FOR THE MEETING OF THE AMERICAN 
MEDICAL ASSOCIATION AT NEW YORK, MAY 5, 1853
A 
SENTIMENT
RIP VAN WINKLE, M. D. 
MEDICAL POEMS 
THE MORNING VISIT 
A sick man's chamber, though it often boast
The grateful presence of 
a literal toast,
Can hardly claim, amidst its various wealth,
The right 
unchallenged to propose a health;
Yet though its tenant is denied the 
feast,
Friendship must launch his sentiment at least,
As prisoned 
damsels, locked from lovers' lips,
Toss them a kiss from off their 
fingers' tips. 
The morning visit,--not till sickness falls
In the charmed circles of 
your own safe walls;
Till fever's throb and pain's relentless rack
Stretch you all helpless on your aching back;
Not till you play the 
patient in your turn,
The morning visit's mystery shall you learn.
'T is a small matter in your neighbor's case,
To charge your fee for 
showing him your face;
You skip up-stairs, inquire, inspect, and 
touch,
Prescribe, take leave, and off to twenty such. 
But when at length, by fate's transferred decree,
The visitor becomes 
the visitee,
Oh, then, indeed, it pulls another string;
Your ox is 
gored, and that's a different thing!
Your friend is sick: phlegmatic as a 
Turk,
You write your recipe and let it work;
Not yours to stand the 
shiver and the frown,
And sometimes worse, with which your draught 
goes down.
Calm as a clock your knowing hand directs,
/Rhei, 
jalapae ana grana sex/,
Or traces on some tender missive's back,
/Scrupulos duos pulveris ipecac/;
And leaves your patient to his 
qualms and gripes,
Cool as a sportsman banging at his snipes.
But 
change the time, the person, and the place,
And be yourself "the 
interesting case,"
You'll gain some knowledge which it's well to learn;
In future practice it may serve your turn.
Leeches, for 
instance,--pleasing creatures quite;
Try them,--and bless you,--don't 
you find they bite?
You raise a blister for the smallest cause,
But be 
yourself the sitter whom it draws,
And trust my statement, you will 
not deny
The worst of draughtsmen is your Spanish fly!
It's mighty 
easy ordering when you please,
/Infusi sennae capiat uncias tres/;
It's mighty different when you quackle down
Your own three ounces 
of the liquid brown.
/Pilula, pulvis/,--pleasant words enough,
When 
other throats receive the shocking stuff;
But oh, what flattery can 
disguise the groan
That meets the gulp which sends it through your 
own!
Be gentle, then, though Art's unsparing rules
Give you the 
handling of her sharpest tools;
Use them not rashly,--sickness is 
enough;
Be always "ready," but be never "rough." 
Of all the ills that suffering man endures,
The largest fraction liberal 
Nature cures;
Of those remaining, 't is the smallest part
Yields to 
the efforts of judicious Art;
But simple Kindness, kneeling by the bed
To shift the pillow for the sick man's head,
Give the fresh draught
to cool the lips that burn,
Fan the hot brow, the weary frame to turn,--
Kindness, untutored by our grave M. D.'s,
But Nature's graduate, 
when she schools to please,
Wins back more sufferers with her voice 
and smile
Than all the trumpery in the druggist's pile. 
Once more, be quiet: coming up the stair,
Don't be a plantigrade, a 
human bear,
But, stealing softly on the silent toe,
Reach the sick 
chamber ere