A Fragment


Thou strainest through the mountain fern,

A most exiguously thin Burn.

For all thy foam, for all thy din,

Thee shall the pallid lake inurn,

With well-a-day for Mr. Swin-Burne!

Take then this quarto in thy fin

And, O thou stoker huge and stern,

The whole affair, outside and in, Burn!

But save the true poetic kin,

The works of Mr. Robert Burn'

And William Wordsworth upon Tin-Tern!

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