But, frankly, how came you to dream
Of attempting to treat with my muse?
As it is, I’m at least a good “sou,”
But lacquer me over, and you
Make me counterfeit ev’n among “sous.”
Keep your pelf; I’m no hero, I fear,
But if the world happens to hear
Of this secret you think so profound,
You’ll know whence the story has sprung—
My heart’s like a lyre newly strung,