’Tis true what he has said; here the King’s worth
Is gauged but by his crown, and the crown’s worth
Owed to its rust. Woe to its furbisher!
Brighter but lighter—gain and loss are matched.
But why bemoan it if for just this once
I so forgot me—sheer worn out, and loath
Only by force of heirloom garb to glitter,
Pass current just as minted coins pass current
By take-for-granted worth, and share with statues
That in the sacred temple-niches stand