When nobles eat their noblest words,
The grand old gardener and his wife
Smile at the airs of poet-lords.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
'Tis only noble to be good.
Plain souls are more than coronets,
And simple lives than Baronhood.
I know you, Baron Vere de Vere:
You pine among your halls and bays:
The jaded light of your vain eyes