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1858–1924

LA DERNIERE ROBE DE SOI.

Edith Nesbit

OH, silken gown, all pink and pretty, Bought, quite a bargain, in the City, Your ill-trained soul full false has played me — No Paris gown would have betrayed me.

You knew, my pretty silken treasure, I must not wed for love or pleasure, But for a settlement and title; Yet you encouraged his recital!

He said — oh, faithless gown, you listened While on your sheen two tear drops glistened — He said... let love to music set it, I'll never speak it — nor forget it!

“No, no!” I cried, I tried to save you — False gown, you showed the tears I gave you! You looked discreet when first I found you. How could you let his arm go round you?

You darling dress — I'll smooth your creases, I'll wear you till you drop to pieces; But poor men's wives wear cotton only — Dear gown — I hope you wo n't feel lonely!

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LA DERNIERE ROBE DE SOI. · Edith Nesbit · Poetry Cove