The Muse
Time: Next year. Place: Everywhere. Scene: A level stretch of monotony.
THE SPIRIT OF THE REJECTION SLIP (Entering despairingly)
Alas—in vain! Yet I have barred the way
As best I might, that this great horror fall
Not on the world. Returned with many thanks
And not because of lack of merit, I
Have said to twenty million poets ... nay ...
Profane it not, that word ... to twenty million
Persons who wasted stamps and typewriting