Last week, you were introduced to Gilmore Hilton, an intellectual giant whose structured education ended on the day he received his high school diploma, but he studied philosophy and psychology in his spare time. Impressed by his knowledge and wisdom, many of us turned to him for advice and direction. He was our Voltaire.

I was in Gil’s store when Eddie Allen burst in and shouted, “I spent a week with the most wonderful woman whose inner spirit and mind are as beautiful as her face. Gilmore, I’m in love. Please help me write a sweet sonnet; I need to impress her.”

Our Voltaire calmed him down, listened attentively, opened a book, walked around his desk, and said, “Tell me everything about this wonderful woman.” Eddie went on and on until Gil stopped him. “You will have your sonnet tomorrow.”

The next morning I drove by the store at 5, saw a light on, stopped, and went in. Gilmore said he had been up all night and handed me the poem. The tired sophist whispered, “I hope he likes it.”

Your face alone is not where your beauty lies,

Though Heaven’s stars are rivals to your eyes;

As Lotus lips are sweetening your drink,

Your hair like soft-ribbed waves flow to their brink.

The golden Cross that pillows on your breasts

Communions faith with chaste Diana’s crest.

And statuesque…a Michelangelo,

A marble Venus sculptured years ago.

But beauty in your heart is greater still;

Steadfast, not broken by mere human will.

Nor you so frivolous your love be bought

By mortal words without immortal thought.

Patience – the fairy Cupid’s golden dart

Will find a worthy soul and pierce his heart.

Eddie wanted to pay Gilmore but the sage quoted Shakespeare, “He is well paid who is well satisfied.”

Morton Soule teaches Latin at Cape Elizabeth High School. He can be reached at mortsoule@gmail.com.