Honors are silly toys, I know,
And titles are but empty names;--
I would, PERHAPS, be Plenipo,--
But only near St. James;--
I'm very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator's chair.
Jewels are baubles; 'tis a sin
To care for such unfruitful things;--
One good-sized diamond in a pin,--
Some, NOT SO LARGE, in rings,--
A ruby and a pearl, or so,
Will do for me;--I laugh at show.
My dame should dress in cheap attire;
(Good, heavy silks are never dear;)--
I own perhaps I MIGHT desire
Some shawls of true cashmere,--
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.
I would not have the horse I drive
So fast that folks must stop and stare
An easy gait--two, forty-five--
Suits me; I do not care;--
Perhaps, for just a SINGLE SPURT,
Some seconds less would do no hurt.
Of pictures, I should like to own
Titians and Raphaels three or four,--
I love so much their style and tone,--
One Turner, and no more,--
(A landscape,--foreground golden dirt
The sunshine painted with a squirt.)
Of books but few,--some fifty score
For daily use, and bound for wear;
The rest upon an upper floor;--
Some LITTLE luxury THERE
Of red morocco's gilded gleam,
And vellum rich as country cream.
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