The gallant decent man
saves and spares the blushes and emotional pains
of the compromised hapless lady
coerced into skulduggeries and murkiness
manipulated, intimidated, unable to protest
she will do as bided
for murky contrived machinations is their game
what can she do but play along with things
Whilst the wanton selfish spineless cad
will seek companionship aside him
afraid and guised in cowardice in the arena
a gallant decent and brave real man
reads the play and removes all collateral damages
what gains the brave to see another suffer
the fight is not yours he says, go find your peace
the lady sees the courage and decency of a real brave
the muted cordial accord speaks volume
the unspoken decency of a class act
for had it been a brazen compatriot of anodyne fervour
would not she say, let me go again to lure and daze
but so, was the edict, I have done what I was made to do
let me be
while senseless idiots huff and puff in piffles and tattles
and dopes and halfwits galvanizes in irrationalities
where lesser beings lose their heads and hearts
and sensibilities becomes evasive illusions
with grievous envies ingrained in the mindless
Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.....
Name a new Play, and he's the Poet's Friend,
Nay show'd his Faults—but when wou'd Poets mend?
No Place so Sacred from such Fops is barr'd,
Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Church-yard:
Nay, fly to Altars; there they'll talk you dead;
For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.
