Tongue of gentle, style of scholar, now are far too cold
Go it like an angry fishwife when upon the scold.
Now that chivalry’s forgotten, knightly steel all rust
Quenched the pride old poets lived by, dead their grace as dust,
Shall their mild example bind us? Not a whit, I trust!
Blow the grace of Gentle Spenser, courtesy’s soft sway!
Hang the grace of Wordsworth, leaving nothing to unsay!
Let the Poet’s shriek go forth falsetto—Rail away!
By the grace of trust in reason dolts have lived and died
By the fear of noisy folly tongues have oft been tied,