Poseur

No matter that thou think'st in such a play
To hide thy baseness in a tinsel'ed gown --
Or in a tucked and padded panoply display
An height of grace from which thou may'st look down
On those whose place thou'dst have among the great.
Thy soul's array is sad and tattered, mired
With fetid pride, and thus thy true estate
Be known. No matter how thou art attired,
That silent witness gives the lie to all
Pretense. Defense from that great knowing eye
Thou hast not, though the blinded fools enthrall
Thou may'st. A noble soul thou can'st not buy.
As earthly kingship comes from holy throne,
Nobility by God-graced heart is shown.