A Song Against Care
O Care!
Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne,
Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies
(For seldom—seldom art thou stained and torn,
Showing a tattered lining, and the bare
Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair
To look at, O thou garment of our pride!
A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise;
He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . .
And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . .
And after . . . when men know the agony
Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake
Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne,
Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies
(For seldom—seldom art thou stained and torn,
Showing a tattered lining, and the bare
Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair
To look at, O thou garment of our pride!
A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise;
He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . .
And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . .
And after . . . when men know the agony
Of thy great weight of splendour, and would shake
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