"Don't sell it, please; do not exchange
It for another; don't arrange
To shelve it somewhere out of show:
Live up to my conception.

"My gift's a special one, you see,
And where I think it ought to be
Is where it shall be, or else no
More gifts! I hate rejection!

"But if you take it, and pretend
To like it, why! I soon shall send
Another that will make you glow,
Which you will think perfection."

And since he had another thing
We lusted for, which plucked the sting
Out of his gift, we took it, so
He'd keep up the connection.

But then, alas, our donor died,
His pledge not yet redeemed. We tried
To get the thing. We didn't, though.
Imagine our dejection!

And that, alas, was not the worst:
The piece of junk he'd sent us first
Remained to fill us all with woe
About our dereliction.

We took what we despised before
Securing that we all adore,
And said we'd keep it. Now we're low,
And sickly of complexion.

Beware of gifts a donor brings
Whenever they're attached to strings
Which make you keep what you would throw
Away on your discretion.