The Measure of Man

A heavy bag hangs from his Belt,
Lace gathers at his throat,
Adorning regal shoulders is
A macaroni coat.
Though decked in some such finery,
Tis prudent, make no err’
Though his stature makes for comeliness,
Low is his character.
So sings the man, who without coin,
Can smile through the day,
Spare kindness and a gentle glance
As he passes on his way.
His clothes are nonesuch costly,
Times more than inconvenient,
Still he stands more firmly at the helm
Than any well-off gent.

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