“To the Friend Whose Wait had Become Tiresome” by George Cox
No sorrowful excuse will I admit
Nor blame the inconveniences of time,
No pointless puns; no sophomoric wit!
To lighten my apologetic rhyme.
But I admit defeat, for nothing more
(Save saying that I am a mindless heel)
Can bring me closer to your grace’s door,
And truly show how sorrowful I feel.
Thus if I venture forth some lame excuse
Or try to quell your ire with idle dreck,
I know no words or logic to abuse,
To satisfy your urge to ring my neck.
For anyone of mind both clear and wise
Knows reasons are excuses in disguise.