I SAID 'The dark deed matters nought,
And this green gown becomes her well;
For phrase and rhyme oft hide the thought,
As pearls are hid 'twixt shell and shell.
'My Lady Lyric, go your way,
Dance daintily around the globe,
Nor mind what carping critics say,
Nor whence you got your shining robe.'
I have a wardrobe, quaintly hung
With brave brocade and gleaming silk,
Plumed hats, and collars richly strung,
With gems outgiving fire and milk.
No thief may raid its rare contents,
No years decay, nor moth devour;
It is not lavender that scents
The air, nor is it any flower.
Full fifty poets, day and night,
In mirth and pain and dark despair
Sat weaving for the world's delight
The wondrous fabrics shining there.
'My peasant maid shall seem a queen,'
I said, 'if she be rich-arrayed';
And in another's cloak of green
I dressed the shoulders of my maid.
Roderic Quinn's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A Wardrobe by Roderic Quinn )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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