Quoth Dunraven, “Tax once more!”
Startled at the silence broken by reply so patly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what he utters is his only stock and store,—
Caught from some bad fiscal master, whom trade-loss or farm-disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his talk one burden bore,—
Till the dirges of his craft one economic burden bore,—
Of ‘Tax—tax Corn once more!’
“Prophet,” said I, “of things evil, Trade is going to the devil,
Is the plea of you and Lowther, Chaplin, many another bore.
Sophists dull, yet all undaunted, do you think the thing that’s wanted