Misfortune is a darling, ever
Most faithful to the minstrel race;
Let low-bred wretches shun them, never
Yet acted she a part so base.

True, oft by her the bard discovers
He's stript of all he once possest;
But then, just like your sculpture-lovers,
She likes her idols naked, best.

Joseph Skipsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-darling/