Tell me the Truth, and ah, forgo these pranks—
Whom must I imitate? Who’s really It?
On whose embroidered footstool should I sit?
There’s Podgrass now—he seems a coming man;
Writes unintelligible stuff, half French, half Erse.
He told me Philomela had technique
But not much feeling; Crashaw knew his trade,
But Keats had no idea of writing verse....
The thing to read (he said) had just come out,
His latest work, entitled “Bloody Shout.”