Classic Poem

My halting verse, go bear for me,
Unless the task o'erburden thee,
A word for friend Maternus' ear,
(Speak softly lest the world should hear).
Tell of a certain man we know
Who loves sad clothes and makes a show
Of Baetic wool and garments grey,
But holds that red is far too gay;
While amethyst will never do
For men — " 'Tis but a woman's hue," —
Though robes undyed may win his praise,
Or neutral tones, or simple greys.
But though with garish tints he quarrels,
Yet what about his lurid morals?
" Who is the man?" you ask. Somehow
The name has slipped from me, just now.