Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes,
The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst;
At other times—good Lord! I’d rather be
Quite unacquainted with the A B C,
Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst.
J. K. Stephen.
THEY SAID
BECAUSE thy prayer hath never fed
Dark Atë with the food she craves;
Because thou dost not hate, they said,