Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO MY OLD COAT, by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER



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TO MY OLD COAT, by            
First Line: Wear well, poor coat, that time endears!
Last Line: We soon must part, my dear old friend!


Wear well, poor coat, that time endears!
Together we are growing old:
My hand has brushed thee ten long years—
Can more of Socrates be told?
If Fate aggressively still tries
Thy patched and threadbare stuff to rend,
Resist—like me, philosophize—
We must not part, my dear old friend!

How fondly I recall the day
When first I wore thee! 'Twas my fête
And friends, who hailed my spruce array,
Sang songs thy praise to celebrate.
Thy poor old age of which I boast,
True comrades never can offend,
Oft still myself and thee they toast—
We must not part, my dear old friend!

Have I debased thee with perfume,
That warns when simpering fops are near;
Or, cringing in some anteroom,
Exposed thee to a patron's sneer?
For ribbons that the wise man scorns
All France is eager to contend:
A rose thy buttonhole adorns—
We must not part, my dear old friend!

No longer fear those reckless days,
When kindred destinies were ours,
Days, when we shared the blame and praise,
The joy and sorrow, sun and showers.
My need of tailors I foresee
Is not far distant from an end:
We'll end together—wait for me—
We soon must part, my dear old friend!





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