O you chorus of indolent reviewers,1
Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,2
Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem3
All composed in a metre of Catullus4
All in quantity, careful of my motion,5
Like the skater on ice that hardly bears him,6
Lest I fall unawares before the people,7
Walking laughter in indolent reviewers.8
Should I flounder awhile without a tumble9
Thro’ this metrificaiton of Catullus,10
They should speak to me not without a welcome,11
All that chorus of indolent reviewers.12
Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tumble,13
So fantastical is the dainty metre.14
Wherefore slight me not wholly, nor believe me15
Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers.16
O blatant Magazines, regard me rather—17
Since I blush to belaud myself a moment—18
As some exquisite rose, a piece of inmost19
Horticultural art, or half coquette-like20
Maiden, not to be greeted unbenignly.21