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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341804" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fashions</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fashion on fashion on fashion,<br>(With only the truth growing old!)<br>And here's the new purple of passion,<br>(And love waiting out in the cold)<br>Who'll buy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They are crying new lamps for Aladdin,<br>New worlds for the old and the true;<br>And no one remembers the story<br>_The magic was not in the new._</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They are crying a new rose for Eden,<br>A rose of green glass. I suppose<br>The only thing wrong with their rose is<br>The fact that it isn't a rose.<br>Who'll buy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And here is a song without metre;<br>And, here again, nothing is wrong;<br>(For nothing on earth could be neater)<br>Except that--it isn't a song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well. Walk on your hands. It's the latest!<br>And feet are Victorian now;<br>And even our best and our greatest<br>Before that dread epithet bow.<br>Who'll buy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The furniture goes for a song, now.<br>The sixties had horrible taste.<br>But the trouble is this--they've included<br>Some better things, too, in their haste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Were they wrapped in the antimacassars,<br>Or sunk in a sofa of plush?<br>Did an Angelican bishop forget them,<br>And leave them behind in the crush?<br>Who'll buy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here's a turnex. It's going quite cheaply.<br>(It lived with stuffed birds in the hall!<br>And, of course, to a mind that thinks deeply<br>That settles it, once and for all.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here's _item_, a ring (very plain, sirs!),<br>And _item_, a God (but He's dead!);<br>They say we shall need Him again, sirs,<br>So--_item_, a cross for His head.<br>Who'll buy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, you'll need it again, though He's dead, sirs.<br>It is only the fashions that fly.<br>So here are the thorns for His head, sirs.<br>They'll keep till you need 'em. Who'll buy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Noyes">Alfred Noyes</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341804" data-title="Fashions de Alfred Noyes" data-description="Fashion on fashion on fashion,
(With only the truth growing old!)
And here's the new purple of passion,
(And love waiting out in the cold)
Who'll buy?

They are crying new lamps for Aladdin,
New worlds for the old and the true;
And no one remember..."></div>
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