Skin by Philip Larkin
Obedient daily dress, You cannot always keep That unfakable young surface. You must learn your lines - Anger, amusement, sleep; Those few forbidding signs
Of the continuous coarse Sand-laden wind, time; You must thicken, work loose Into an old bag Carrying a soiled name. Parch then; be roughened; sag;
And pardon me, that I Could find, when you were new, No brash festivity To wear you at, such as Clothes are entitled to Till the fashion changes.
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