Strong sun， that bleach
The curtains of my room， can you not render
Colourless this dress I wear？——
This violent plaid
Of purple angers and red shames； the yellow stripe
Of thin but valid treacheries； the flashy green of kind deeds done
Through indolence high judgments given here in haste；
The recurring checker of the serious breach of taste？
No more uncoloured than unmade，
I fear， can be this garment that I may not doff；
Confession does not strip it off，
To send me homeward eased and bare；
All through the formal， unoffending evening， under the clean
Bright hair，
Lining the subtle gown. . .it is not seen，
But it is there.