“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.