And paper—give me Omar on mere waste,
I’ll choose it rather than some “bookish taste,”
Expended on a flimsy, whimsey tale,
Put out to catch a whimsey, flimsy sale.
I’d choose my Omar print on grocer’s wraps
Before the vellum books of “bookish” chaps.
A CONFESSION
My epic verse, my pet production, which I deemed
Sufficient to advance me to the highest peak
Of difficult Parnassus, goal of which I’ve dreamed