They meet the man and pass him by,
While Tennyson they deify!
Because, true flunkeys as they are,
They prize not worth but tinsel glare,
And spurn the diamond, rough, unhewn,
For one that glitters near a throne.
But let stern justice hold the scales,
And see with which true worth prevails;
The collier, not the Laureate, bard
Will claim the palm by her award.[m]