No More Learning

Changed to the whiteness of the snow,
By the stormy winds that blow
In the vast and frozen air,
No shirt half so fine, so fair;
A rich waistcoat they did bring,
Made of the Trout-fly's gilded wing:
At which his Elveship 'gan to fret
The wearing it would make him sweat
Even with its weight: he needs would wear
A waistcoat made of downy hair
New shaven off an Eunuch's chin,
That pleased him well, 'twas           thin.