Bards, pour your benison on Baron Tennyson,
Who vulgarised the art of rhyming,
And set the twaddle that fills each noddle
In endless jingle-jangle chiming:
Rhyme, brothers, rhyme, each puling poetaster,
And inundate the Master, Master, Master.
Recitative and Aria: Lord Tennyson.
Bards, idle bards, I know not what ye mean!
Words powerfully expressive of despair
Rise to my lips and flash from out my eyes