Nor low Ambitions’ honors lost
That bids me loathe my present state,
And fly from all I loved the most.
It is the contrast which will spring
From all I meet, or hear, or see,
To me no garments tailors bring,—
Their shops have scarce a charm for me.
It is a something all who rub
Would know the owner long had wore;
That may not look beyond the tub,