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34                STEVENSON'S POEMS
HAIL ! Childish slaves of social rules
You had yourselves a hand in making! How I could shake your faith, ye fools,
If but I thought it worth the shaking. I see, and pity you ; and then
Go, casting off the idle pity, In search of better, braver men,
My own way freely through the city.
My own way freely, and not yours;
And, careless of a town's abusing, Seek real friendship that endures
Among the friends of my own choosing. I'll choose my friends myself, do you hear ?
And won't let Mrs. Grundy do it, Tho' all I honour and hold dear * And all I hope should move me to it.
I take my old coat from the shelf—
I am a man of little breeding. And only dress to please myself—
I owri, a, v@ry strange proceeding.