Who shows us, with unnecessary pains,
The sharp things that some other sheet contains?
Who hands us every word, from far and near,
That he against our enterprise can hear?
Sweet are the consolations he can bring;
And yet we cannot call him Sanctum King!
Who then, or what, this king of mighty fame?
Whence comes his power, and what may be his name?
May we not, with some show of truthful grace,
Put The Waste Basket in that honored place?