How clever is the hare whose coat will change

To suit the seasons as they come and go,

So matching colors to the shifting range,

A cunning cloak which fate itself unfolds.

In spring a mottled blend of brown and white

And summer’s best, a blush of chestnut hues;

Autumn’s dress fades soft to winter’s blight—

Yet what to don—and by whose silent cues?

This costumed garb so staged in broad intrigue,

Its clever purpose clear of wit designed

To outfox those who cannot see the need

Of vestments worn to make fate’s course align.

Transmuting raiments for another’s eyes—

Much like a mistress in this wily guise.