Let William Archer judge, and bearded Sharp
Condemn his betters, enviously carp
At living bards (if any), one and all,
Such is the way of versifiers small;
Let Morris whine and steal from Tennyson,
The poet King, whose race is nearly run,
Let Arnold drivel on, and Swinburne rave,
And godly Patmore chant a stupid stave,
Let Kipling, Caine, and Hardy, and the rest,
And all the women-writers unrepressed,