A maiden once a lover had Who breathed the truest sighs,— But simply was this lover clad In 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 be A 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 eye That 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 wears A suit of russet brown."
When next she met the youth, he wore A 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 spurn A suit of russet brown.
