SARTOR RESARTUS*
Mistress! Rip off my mouldy mundane dress,
My crudely cut clothes are custom made,
Strip me naked, I need your urgent aid
To free my soul from dull dress of stress.
My limbs fidget, this body’s too restless.
Fashion me instead a coat less down grade,
For mercy and grace, hard penance I’ve paid.
Seamstress, clad me gladly my soul to bless.
The tailor’s talent is a wholesome art,
Garments are neatly stitched and snipped with care.
Pray weave me a robe of gossamer and air,
Rainbow hues will grace my aching heart.
Hand me that coat which Joseph once did wear,
Dressed in such finery, I’ll play a prophet’s part.
*The Tailor Retailored.
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