To Inez.
Nay, smile not at my garments now;
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Should’st dress, and haply dress so plain.
And dost thou ask, why should I be
The jest of every foe and friend?
And wilt thou vainly seek to see
A garb, even thou must fail to mend?
It is not love, it is not hate,