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199

WHAT I HATE

I hate cant,
And I hate a ‘plant,’
And humbug I hate altogether;
And I hate a lie,
And treachery,
Worse than the foulest weather.
And as much as I can
Ever hate a man,
I hate one with a voice unpleasant,
With a mouth most greedy
And an eye unsteady:
Him I hate, as a snare the pheasant.
I hate rich fools,
And I hate sham schools,
And I hate the pretence of passion;
And I hate foul words,
And swine and swineherds,
Though Pork be the height of the fashion.

200

I hate weak rhymes—
Though I use them at times;
And I hate all the baseness of evil;
And I hate some things more
Even worse than a bore,—
And a bore I hate worse than the Devil.