We are but Bowerbirds, it seems to be,

Where glossy plumage worn speaks to our worth,

Displayed for but the finest mate to see—

Rank wealth concealing blemishes of birth.

Like mating birds we barter and disguise

There gilding nuptial beds with treasure,

Gold’s glitter cast to blind a lover’s eyes,

That she submit and join in wanton pleasure.

So too, the human mind, like birds, prefers—

And handsome wealth requites a wanting face

Though choices such are coined in different words,

Each pretext posed, extolled without disgrace.

There dowries deck the marital bed in greed—

And beauty’s owned by he who holds the deed.