What Is A Modern Poet's Fate? /

Extremes Meet', As The Whiting Said With Its Tail In Its Mouth.

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright And Yellow, Hard And Cold!

While The Steeples Are Loud In Their Joy, To The Tune Of The Bells' Ring-a-ding, Let Us Chime In A Peal, One And All, For We All Should Be Able To Sing Hullah Baloo.

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?

O Men With Sisters Dear, O Men With Mothers And Wives, It Is Not Linen You 're Wearing Out, But Human Creatures' Lives!