And would welcome spring poetry in Boston town.
For poets must dream, though the editors frown;
Their revel in visions will not be turned down,
Though the general reader is moaning!
Three editors climbed to the loftiest tower
That they could find in all Boston town.
And they planned to conceal themselves, hour after hour,
Till the Sun—and the poets—had both gone down.
For spring poets must write, though the editors rage.
The artistic nature must thus be engaged,