Persuade him that he hath been lunatic; And when he says he is, say that he dreams, For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
Detached by Korinne Arenas
Affluence is but a trait of mine,
Inherited from the womb of which I was birthed
It is within the air I breathe,
intoxicated by the wealth surrounding me
Tis I the noble man,
whom shall never dream of sleeping cold
Never deign to serve those
ten floors below
Yet Tis I who find it strange
within the meer reflection of my standings
That a false reality catches mine eye
For it is but a single grey hair upon this royal head
That wakes the old fool inside
These roots are ancient,
And mine soul hath roamed the earth for decades
Naked in all its fashions
Empty hands and bare souls made for trudging
Yet here I stand, goblet in hand,
Crown upon my head
For I am a lord, and lord alone
And the ghost of the beggar is dead
Explanation: This poem depicts the detached reality that Christopher Sly faces when he is told that he is a mighty lord. He is forced to believe that he is a lord and would be considered a lunatic otherwise, causing Sly to dissemble his true self as a beggar and espouse the role of a lord. While he is surrounded by nothing but wealth, he sometimes is haunted by his past in remembrance of his life as a beggar, however he pushes these thoughts aside, thinking he must be lunatic and goes back to believing that he is, in fact, just a mighty lord.