Neat, not gaudy.

Neat, not gaudy.

Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,
Emblem right meet of decency does yield.

Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,
Emblem right meet of decency does yield.

Beauty when most unclothed is clothed best.

Beauty when most unclothed is clothed best.

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that read more

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures read more

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures me each time she was there
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris . . .
Spent six consecutive weeks, without shopping
In one continuous round of shopping,-- . . .
And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day
This merchandise went on twelve carts, up Broadway,
This same Miss McFlimsey of Madison Square
The last time we met was in utter despair
Becasue she had nothing whatever to wear.

She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a
pitchfork.

She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a
pitchfork.

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.

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And read more

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens ease with grace.

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.