University of Virginia Library

XVII
Prolonged Sonnet

When his Clothes were gone

Never so bare and naked was church-stone
As is my clean-stripped doublet in my grasp;
Also I wear a shirt without a clasp,
Which is a dismal thing to look upon.
Ah! had I still but the sweet coins I won
That time I sold my nag and staked the pay,
I'd not lie hid beneath the roof to-day
And eke out sonnets with this moping moan.
Daily a thousand times stark mad am I
At my dad's meanness who won't clothe me now,
For “How about the horse?” is still his cry.
Till one thing strikes me as clear anyhow,—
No rag I'll get. The wretch has sworn, I see,
Not to invest another doit in me.
And all because of the fine doublet's price
He gave me, when I vowed to throw no dice,
And for his damned nag's sake! Well, this is nice!