Black Beetles in Amber - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 146
A CRITIC
[Apparently the Cleveland Leader is not a good judge of poetry.
The Morning CallThat from you, neighbor! to whose vacant lot Each rhyming literary knacker scourgesHis cart-compelling Pegasus to trot, As folly, fame or famine smartly urges?Admonished by the stimulating goad, How gaily, lo! the spavined crow-bait prances—Its cart before it—eager to unload The dead-dog sentiments and swill-tub fancies.Gravely the sweating scavenger pulls out The tail-board of his curst imagination,Shoots all his rascal rubbish, and, no doubt, Thanks Fortune for so good a dumping-station.To improve your property, the vile cascade Your thrift invites—to make a higher level.In vain: with tons of garbage overlaid, Your baseless bog sinks slowly to the devil."Rubbish may be shot here"—familiar sign! I seem to see it in your every column.You have your wishes, but if I had mine 'Twould to your editor mean something solemn.