PLEASE yourself how you have it.
Take my words, and
fling
Them down on
the counter roundly;
See if they ring.
Sift my looks and expressions,
And see what proportion there
is
Of sand in my
doubtful sugar
Of
verities.
Have a real stock-taking
Of my manly breast;
Find out if I’m sound or
bankrupt,
Or a
poor thing at best.
For I am quite indifferent
To your dubious
state,
As to
whether you’ve found a fortune
In me, or a flea-bitten
fate.
Make a good investigation
Of all that is there,
And then, if it’s worth it,
be grateful- —
If not then despair.
If despair is our portion
Then let us despair.
Let us make for the weeping
willow.
I don’t
care.