Come down, and redeem us from clothing,
O nude Belvidere!
We are wise—and we make ourselves hazy,
We are foolish—and, so, go to church;
While Sambo but laughs, and is lazy,
(Vile Discipline! lend me thy birch);
He dreams of no life save the present,
His virtue is but when it suits;
Sometimes, which is not quite so pleasant,
I miss coat or boots.