The critic, too, of classic skill,
Must dip in gall his gander quill,
And scrall against the paper:
Of all the literary fools
Bred in our colleges and schools,
He cuts the greatest caper.
Another cries, I want to see
A jumbled-up variety,
Variety in all things,—
A miscellaneous, hodge-pod print,
Composed (I only give the hint)
Of multifarious small things.
I want some marriage news, says miss:
It constitutes my highest bliss
To hear of weddings plenty;
For in a time of general rain
None suffer from a drought, 'tis plain,—
At least, not one in twenty.
I want to hear of deaths, says one,
Of people totally undone
By losses, fire, or fever:
Another answers full as wise,
I'd rather have a fall and rise
Of raccoon skins and beaver.
Some signify a secret wish
For now and then a favorite dish
Of politics to suit them.
But here we rest at perfect ease,
For should they swear the moon was cheese,
We never should dispute them.
Or grave or humorous, wild or tame,
Lofty or low, 'tis all the same,
Too haughty or too humble;
And every editorial wight
Has nought to do but what is right,
And let the grumblers grumble.
From a Salem paper of 1828; author not stated.
"All are needed by each one,
Nothing is fair and good alone."
Emerson.