Nor grace nor gear shall him repay.
But they some bold Tom Piper will agrace
Alway. Wherefore none may gainsay:
Through folly falls poesy to decay.
Fy ye blind and clumsy wits,
Poesy ye should strive to understand, and
Love it rightly, as befits.
Let it in honor on every hand stand;
By poesy only is a land grand.
Praise to them who own its sway!