Poetry Archives

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!