Your Aim in Life -- to please the eye

And thus to marriage you condemn
Yourself.
Sweet nothings and romance
Then drudgery.
And while you wash his clothes
And tend his house,
Watch, as my life spreads out,
Beneath my feet.
For I have no fair face
On which to thrive.
I must rely on wit, and thought
And scorn.
So when a man attempts to put me down,
I'll fight him with my fierce
Artillery.
Out comes the razor wit, the barbed rebuff.
He'll crumble as I deal him
All his worth.
And while your looks will fade,
My mind will grow
Keener, sharpened by experience.
As I get old, my mind will stimulate.
But you, my dear,
Will cease to decorate.