"Where`s the need of singing now?"— Smooth your brow, Momus, and be reconciled. For king Kronos is a child— Child and father, Or god rather, And all gods are wild. "Who reads Byron any more?"— Shut the door Momus, for I feel a draught; Shut it quick, for some one laughed.— What`s become of Browning? Some of Wordsworth lumbers like a raft? "What are poets to find here?"— Have no fear: When the stars are shining blue There will yet be left a few Themes availing— And these failing, Momus, there`ll be you.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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