Classic Poem

From Shakespeare's law there's no appeal
To show what is, what not to steal.
To keep the spectacles you left,
As you must want them, would be theft.
Your sight, alas, the worse for wear,
Your spectacles you cannot spare.
But when, my friend, you leave behind
Strong tokens of a vigorous mind:
That coin, which never false or light,
That sterling wit you pay at sight;
That humour trolling from your tongue,
So bold, emphatical and strong;
That various whim, that social glee,
The quick enlivening repartee,
Jack Falstaff's rich variety;
Such, when you leave, to you unknown,
Without a theft I'll make my own.
You can't be robbed, yourself must grant,
Of what you neither miss nor want.