English poem
Octave
by T. E. Hulme (1883–1917)
Fine songs, fair songs, these golden usuries A Her beauty earns as but just increment, And they do speak with a most ill intent Who say they give when they pay debtor's fees.
I call him bankrupt in the courts of song Who hath her gold to eye and pays her not, Defaulter do I call the knave who hath got Her silver in his heart, and doth her wrong.