Now is the rhymer's honest trade br A thing for scornful laughter made. br br The merchant's sneer, the clerk's disdain, br These are the burden of our pain. br br Because of you did this befall, br You brought this shame upon us all. br br You little poets mincing there br With women's hearts and women's hair! br br How sick Dan Chaucer's ghost must be br To hear you lisp of "Poesie"! br br A heavy-handed blow, I think, br Would make your veins drip scented ink. br br You strut and smirk your little while br So mildly, delicately vile! br br Your tiny voices mock God's wrath, br You snails that crawl along His path! br br Why, what has God or man to do br With wet, amorphous things like you? br br This thing alone you have achieved: br Because of you, it is believed br br That all who earn their bread by rhyme br Are like yourselves, exuding slime.