Gives it a wipe—and all is gone."
And this (says Mr. Punch) is the Minor Poet's reply to-day:—
I write not on a slate, but foolscap fair:
It falls to the Waste-paper Basket's care.
If not, the Minor Poet's still ill-fated,
'Tis by some Minor Critic now he's "slated."
Far better than that stabber's spiteful lunge,
Were "a clean slate" and kind oblivion's "sponge."