A maiden once a lover hadWho breathed the truest sighs,—But simply was this lover cladIn dark and lowly guise:So all his wooing was in vain,She scorn'd his peasant grade;She toss'd her head, and mock'd his pain,And laugh'd at all he said."No, no," cried she, "the tale would beA jest for all the town!I'll wed no youth who wears, forsooth,A suit of russet brown."
He offer'd her a gentle bird,Whose plumage, it was true,Gave forth no sheen of glossy green,No scarlet, gold, or blue:She look'd upon it with an eyeThat flash'd with kindling pride;With head uplift, she scorn'd the gift,And thrust the cage aside."No, no," cried she, with pompous airs,"Such boon I would not own;For, like yourself, it only wearsA suit of russet brown."
When next she met the youth, he woreA doublet of brave cost;The bird's rich song was heard to pour,—But youth and bird were lost.The maiden then bewail'd her fate,She rued her scornful mirth;And thought, but, ah! she thought too late,"Plain garbs may cover worth."Then, ladies, list—this lesson learn,—Be wary how ye frown;Think twice ere once ye rudely spurnA suit of russet brown.
