In which much wisdom spake so merrily.
A voice, and no mere echo, thine,
Of many tones, but manly ever.
Thy rustic Biglow's rugged line
A grateful world neglecteth never!
It smote hypocrisy and cant
With flail-like force; sleek bards that ripple
Like shallow pools—who pose and pant,
And vaguely smudge or softly stipple,—
These have not brain or heart to sing