Oh, silken gown, all pink and pretty,
Bought, quite a bargain, in the City,
Your ill-trained soul full false has played me-
No Paris gown would have betrayed me.
You knew, my pretty silken treasure,
I must not wed for love or pleasure,
But for a settlement and title;
Yet you encouraged his recital!
He said-oh, faithless gown, you listened
While on your sheen two tear drops glistened-
He said . . . let love to music set it,
I'll never speak it-nor forget it!
“No, no!” I cried, I tried to save you-
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress-I'll smooth your creases,
I'll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men's wives wear cotton only-
Dear gown-I hope you won't feel lonely!
La Derniere Robe De Soi
E. (edith) Nesbit
(1)
Poem topics: city, feel, hope, lonely, music, never, paris, pink, poor, dear, pleasure, soul, tear, treasure, forget, speak, save, dress, I love you, pretty, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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