Besides Our Dignity

I suffer from an excess of restraint,
My access to vituperation lags,
Dissension, always much too mild, now sags
Beneath the weight of gentleness, a taint
It won't recover from. Am I a saint?
Do I go rambling around in rags,
Or carry my whole life in shopping bags?
O, argument has left me feeling faint.

If I should falter, think no less of me.
When quiet contemplation, all I crave
Between this day and when I dig my grave
(I purchased a used shovel recently),
Deserts us, like a ship's rat, suddenly,
Besides our dignity, what will we save?