I frankly call

That last effect a perfect pearl!

I know it’s

Not given to many poets

To frame so fair a thing

As this of mine, of Spring.

Indeed, the world grows Lilliput

All but

A precious few, the heirs of utter godlihead,

Who wear the yellow flower of blameless bodlihead!

41

41

And they, with Laureates dead, look down

On smaller fry unworthy of the crown,

Mere mushroom men, puff-balls that advertise

And bravely think to brush the skies.

Great is advertisement with little men!

Moi, qui vous parle, L- G-ll--nn-,

Have told them so;

I ought to know!

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