It shall find in man or maiden one to read its pages o’er,
And yet the chorus of your melody is ‘Read it o’er—read it o’er.’
Quoth the Author, ‘Nothing more!’”
“Be that word our sign of parting, Author, Fiend, ‘I shrieked upstarting,
Get thee back unto the Harpers on Cliff Street’s Plutonian shore,
Leave no blank page as a token of that word thy tongue has spoken,
Leave my murky thoughts unbroken—quit the threshold of my door,
Take thy Manuscript ‘out’ with thee and take thyself from out my door.’
Quoth the Author, ‘Read it o’er!’”
“And the Author never flitting still is sitting, still is sitting