To R. K.

As long I dwell on some stupendous
   And tremendous (Heaven defend us!)
   Monstr'-inform'-ingens-horrendous
   Demoniaco-seraphic
   Penman's latest piece of graphic.
                 BROWNING.
   Will there never come a season
   Which shall rid us from the curse
   Of a prose which knows no reason
   And an unmelodious verse:
   When the world shall cease to wonder
   At the genius of an Ass,
   And a boy's eccentric blunder
   Shall not bring success to pass:
   When mankind shall be delivered
  From the clash of magazines,
  And the inkstand shall be shivered
  Into countless smithereens:
  When there stands a muzzled stripling,
  Mute, beside a muzzled bore:
  When the Rudyards cease from kipling
  And the Haggards Ride no more.