Poem by James Kenneth Stephen (1859-1892)

 

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To R.K.


Will there never come a season
Which shall rid us from the curse
Of a prose which knows no reason
And an unmelodious verse:
When the world shall cease to wonder
At the genius of an Ass,
And a boy's eccentric blunder
Shall not bring success to pass:

When mankind shall be delivered
From the clash of magazines,
And the inkstand shall be shivered
Into countless smithereens:
When there stands a muzzled stripling,
Mute, beside a muzzled bore:
When the Rudyards cease from kipling
And the Haggards Ride no more.

 


More information on James Kenneth Stephen

 

 





Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-05-13 at 00:00

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Amusing.
2024-05-13