To clap your hands, of pure compassion quite full,
And cry “He’s safe, poor darling! How delightful!”
So young, so fair, and can ye lack compassion?
It cannot be; ye are but slaves to Fashion,
Bowing yourselves, as did the Jewish nation,
Before the monster of your own creation.
Shake off the chains, or take a bird’s advice—
Serve if ye list, but do not sacrifice.
You, upon whom all fashionable men dance,
From noon to eve, assiduous attendance,