You put on your cap and your gown;
But, Clarence, you're grown out of knowledge,
And chang'd from the spur to the crown:
The voice that was best when it faltered
Is fuller and firmer in tone;
And the smile that should never have altered,—
Dear Clarence,—it is not your own:
Your cravat was badly selected,
Your coat don't become you at all;
And why is your hair so neglected?