Unlike those feeble gales of praise Which critics blew in former days, Our modern puffs are of a kind That truly, really raise the wind; And since they ' ve fairly set in blowing, We find them the best trade-winds going. 'Stead of frequenting paths so slippy As her old haunts near Aganippe, The Muse now taking to the till Has opened shop on Ludgate Hill (Far handier than the Hill of Pindus , As seen from bard's back attic windows); And swallowing there without cessation Large draughts (at sight) of inspiration, Touches the notes for each new theme, While still fresh" change comes o'er her dream." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DOLL BELIEVERS by CLARENCE MAJOR SEVEN TIMES ONE [- CHILDHOOD. EXULTATION] by JEAN INGELOW EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT by ALEXANDER POPE LAMENT OF THE MASTER ERSKINE by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE MARRIAGE OF GERAINT by ALFRED TENNYSON |