THE GERALDINE'S CLOAK

I will not heed the message which you bring:

That lovely lady gave her cloak to us,

And who'd believe she'd give away a thing

And ask it back again?—‘ tis fabulous!

My parting from her gave me cause to grieve,

For she, that I was poor, had misty eyes;

If some Archangel blew it I'd believe

The message which you bring, not otherwise.

I do not say this just to make a joke,

Nor would I rob her, but,‘ tis verity,

So long as I could swagger in a cloak

I never cared how bad my luck could be.

That lady, all perfection, knows the sting

Of poverty was thrust deep into me:

I do n't believe she'd do this kind of thing,

Or treat a poet less than daintily.