Fie! what a sinful waste it is to use Fine calf-skin or morocco -- making shoes! Be it the daintiest foot-gear of them all, That Flora twinkles gayly at the ball, 'Twere far more finely, fittingly applied To bind my Hazlitt, Keats, or Akenside. And what a shame that gold, fair gilding gold, As sordid, silly coin should be told! For greasy greenbacks would as well suffice To glut the miser or to pay the price, While gold for this was evidently made -- To letter and embellish Pope and Praed. And further: 'tis a sin, and nothing less, To squander flax upon a woman's dress. Aye, though a maiden flash upon my sight Her snowy form with snowy linen dight, Swift to the mill that fabric fair should go; We need fine paper for Racine and Poe! |