 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
A FIG FOR THE CRITICS!
A fig for the critics! I write not to those
Who are seeking for beauties but them that possess them
Who will never reck how the melody flows
So it murmurs their praises and merits—God bless them.
Who are seeking for beauties but them that possess them
Who will never reck how the melody flows
So it murmurs their praises and merits—God bless them.
And suppose all my verses devoid of the [?]
Of which the bard-killers are evermore vaunting,
The light of a bright beaming eye will suffice
To throw on the page all the beauty that's wanting.
Of which the bard-killers are evermore vaunting,
The light of a bright beaming eye will suffice
To throw on the page all the beauty that's wanting.
40
So a fig for the critics who prose in Reviews!
Let others risk sense for their adulation,
A soft heart for my judge, a dark eye for my muse
I shall win, however I write, admiration
Let others risk sense for their adulation,
A soft heart for my judge, a dark eye for my muse
I shall win, however I write, admiration
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |