The isotherms nestle together,
The isobars tenderly twine…
Cupid’s Weather Map
If Gladys had sent me no message,
Or the mail from Palm Beach met mishap,
Though I lacked premonition or presage
Or courage the wires to tap,
I am sure I could learn when she planned her return
From one look at the weather man’s map.
You’ll notice, no matter in what light
These loops and festoons you may view,
Wherever she moves, like a spot-light,
A zone of fair weather moves, too.
The breezes of May will be blowing her way
When our cars and our fingers are blue.
One sunshiny patch, set off clearly
In a country with rain-clouds all black,
To-day travels northward or nearly,
While a blizzard descends in its track.
Can I possibly err if from this I infer
That Gladys is on her way back?
No; the stupid old map of the weather
Tells the news in its tiniest line.
The isotherms nestle together,
The isobars tenderly twine,
While the forecast they print bears so rosy a tint
It well might be Cupid’s – or mine.
Philip Loring Allen
Life, February 28, 1907, p. 49
Making Maps: DIY Cartography 
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