Dwellers in huts and in marble halls--
From Shepherdess up to Queen--
Cared little for bonnets, and read more

Dwellers in huts and in marble halls--
From Shepherdess up to Queen--
Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawls,
And nothing for crinoline.
But now simplicity's not the rage,
And it's funny to think how cold
The dress they wore in the Golden Age
Would seem in the Age of Gold.

And now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house
And revel it as bravely read more

And now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats and caps and golden rings,
With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things;
With scarfs and fans and double change of brav'ry,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knav'ry.

She's adorned
Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely,--
The truest mirror that an honest wife
read more

She's adorned
Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely,--
The truest mirror that an honest wife
Can see her beauty in!

Apes are apes though clothed in scarlet.

Apes are apes though clothed in scarlet.

Thy clothes are all the soul thou hast.

Thy clothes are all the soul thou hast.

So for thy spirit did devise
Its Maker seemly garniture,
Of its own essence parcel pure.--
read more

So for thy spirit did devise
Its Maker seemly garniture,
Of its own essence parcel pure.--
From grave simplicities a dress,
And reticent demureness,
And love encinctured with reserve;
Which the woven vesture would subserve.
For outward robes in their ostents
Should show the soul's habiliments.
Therefore I say,--Thou'rt fair even so,
But better Fair I use to know.

Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.

Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.

A sweet disorder in the dresse
Kindles in cloathes a wantonnesse.

A sweet disorder in the dresse
Kindles in cloathes a wantonnesse.

He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman,
laughs at the ratling of his read more

He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman,
laughs at the ratling of his fetters. For indeed, Clothes ought
to be our remembrancers of our lost innocency.