The lyric’s melodious expanses,
The epics in cantos a score.
They have been, and are not. No more
Shall the shepherds drive silvery flocks,
Nor the ladies their languors deplore—
They are all in the Fourpenny Box!
And the music! The songs and the dances?
The tunes that time may not restore?
And the tomes where divinity prances?
And the pamphlets where heretics roar?