Classic Poem

WHO COMPLAINED THAT SHE COULD NOT DECYPHER MY SIGNATURE, AND THAT I HAD ADDRESSED HER AS A “CEMENT MANUFACTURER,” WHEREAS SHE WAS MOVING IN THE FIRST CIRCLES OF SOCIETY .

I'm sorry that my ill-scrawl'd name
 Defeated my intent;
And that I styl'd so grand a dame,
 “A maker of cement.”
Forgive me, Madam! I confess,
 A grievous fault was mine:
I own'd your claim to usefulness,
 But knew not you were fine.