LEIGH HUNT! thou stingy man, Leigh Hunt! May Charon swamp thee in his punt, For having, in thy list, forgotten So many poets scarce half rotten, Who did expect of thee at least A few cheese-parings from thy Feast. Hast thou no pity on the men Who suck (as babes their tongues) the pen, Until it leaves no traces where It lighted, and seems dipped in air, At last be generous, Hunt! and prithee Refresh (and gratis too) in Lethe Yonder sick Muse, surcharged with poppies And heavier presentation-copies. She must grow livelier, and the river More potent in effect than ever. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRAYER AT SUNRISE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ON DEATH, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA CHARITAS NIMIA; OR THE DEAR BARGAIN by RICHARD CRASHAW MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE THE SON; SOUTHERN OHIO MARKET TOWN by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE LAY OF MR. COLT by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN TO A LADY, WITH SOME PAINTED FLOWERS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |