Classic Poem

I have seen a man at Lady Lucre's table
Who stuck to serious subjects; spoke of Art
As if he were in earnest and unable
To ascertain its function in the smart
World where it shares a recreational part
With Bridge, best-selling Fiction, and the Stable.

I have heard that man (so destitute of nous
That he'd neglected even to be " well-known;"
" Whatever made her ask him to her house?")
Talking to Lady Lucre in a tone
Of keen conviction that her social passion,
Purged of the volatilities of fashion,
Toiled after truth and spiritual perfection
Without regard for costume or complexion.

I have seen her fail, with petulant replies,
To localize him in his social senses:
I have observed her evening-party eyes
Evicted from their savoir-faire defences.
And while his intellectual gloom encroached
Upon the scintillance of champagne chatter,
In impotent embarrassment she broached
Golf, Goodwood Races, and the Cowes Regatta.

The luncheon over, Lady Lucre's set
Lolled on her lawn and lacked an epithet
Sufficiently severe for such a creature. . . .
" Such dreadful taste!" " A positive blasphemer!"
" He actually referred to our Redeemer
As the world's greatest Socialistic teacher!"