Morose from his losses, in silence or curses,
He lamented the folly of building the raft,
For misfortune had struck with a swift, heavy shaft,
And his proud spirit broke when he saw that the flood
Had bespattered his coat with the yellow clay mud.
’Twas a humiliation, deserving compassion—
Most people lose heart when they go out of fashion.
So Simon, to comfort him, said, “Do not worry;
The flood will subside when it gets o’er its flurry.”
“And your rhymes,” said the wit, “They were mostly old rhymes;