A COAT
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made my song a coatCovered with embroideriesOut of old mythologiesFrom heel to throat;But the fools caught it,Wore it in the world's eyeAs though they'd wrought it.Song, let them take itFor there's more enterpriseIn walking naked. * * * * * _While I, from that reed-throated whisperer__Who comes at need, although not now as once__A clear articulation in the air__But inwardly, surmise companions__Beyond the fling of the dull ass's hoof,__--Ben Jonson's phrase--and find when June is come__At Kyle-na-no under that ancient roof__A sterner conscience and a friendlier home,__I can forgive even that wrong of wrongs,__Those undreamt accidents that have made me__--Seeing that Fame has perished this long while__Being but a part of ancient ceremony--__Notorious, till all my priceless things__Are but a post the passing dogs defile._
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