The Visit

Wearing a suit of simple gray,
I called upon a friend one day.

He straight unlocked his cedar room;
My senses swam with the perfume.

From shelves that hung at wondrous height,
He took down wear that dimmed my sight:

Breeches that buckled at the knee, —
" Smallclothes, " but much too large for me, —

Laced doublets, and cross-gartered hose;
It was a wondrous wealth of clothes.

But 't was not meant that I should share;
They were not shown for me to wear.

'T was only meant that I should see
How very fine a man was he.

And while he walked in brave array,
I sat there in my simple gray:

Think you that when I left his door,
I went much richer than before?
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