Excerpt from The Lottery: A Poem, in Two Parts; And an Ode to War
Since ancient learning so divine Turns out to be thus asinine, T' invoke the long ear'd genus might A modern Poet's pains requite; But since we are but new beginners And may perhaps be laurel winners, And there... 's no angel in the pass, To give poetic coup-de-grace, We shan't begin where others end, With follies which we cannot mend. Could Rabelais' wit, could Swift's undo, The crime of such a mad debut P With those perhaps - the nameless few Who have both wit and candour too As for our own - why if you doubt it, Shut up the book - and do without it.
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