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V. THE CRAWLING CRITIC.

Suppose a creature on a head,
That has no business there,
With stealthy, irritating tread
Should crawl from hair to hair;
Of all the secrets of the brain
What could that creature know,
How learn the ecstacy and pain,
That have their home below?
Crawl, critic, down a ringlet crawl,
And maiden virtue teach;
Crawl, critic, over Samson's locks,
His secret strength to reach:
Crawl on the curly-pated child,
And learn his innocence;
Crawl on the grey-beard, and find out
Experience and good sense.
Crawl, critic, over every line
That ever poet sang,
You're still outside, you'll never know
One secret joy or pang:
Intruding, you may vex the skin
With superficial pain;
Profoundly far from you still lies
The wise and feeling brain.