Let me on my metre be borne.
Flashing thus on verses vehicular,
With Pegasus ’neath my touch,
My method can’t be too particular,
Nor the public see too much.
The critics are all anthropophagous,
And feed on poetic flesh;
My heart nestles in my esophagous,
To think I’ve been in their mesh.
As vessels that sail on the Bosphorus