Classic Poem

While Janet eyes the Lanthorn's Magic,
Lo her poet stays composing:
Now, his mood is wild & tragic,
Now, 't is naught but spoony prosing.

Schubert's song the wretch has written,
And (the feeling to ensure it)
He has striven to be smitten
With the ardours of the Curate.

Is he deep? pathetic? touching?
(Heaven! how thou a freak avengest!)
He himself feels something clutching
At his heart, like what he penn'd just.

Crown him, crown him, and for laurel,
Use a nightcap! else how soon he
May betray his folly! —
Moral:
Ape the Spoon, you must be spoony!