Our Ragcademicians

Oh what fools! what shattered fools we are,
What brainless, headless, bellywitted lumps.
Who are we? Are we? more than camels' humps.
What capon-fats, what zeros under par,
What empty wagons hitched up to a star,
What miscellany of what garbage dumps,
Upon what butcher's hens what naked rumps!
If this be not too flattering by far.

We had a prod to virtue, writing! once.
Where is it now? Sold out — to pimps, unsound,
Strictured. Give? God pardon us, no nerve,
No " cause. " Or we would force them to renounce
Their panders' traffic; sanction Ezra Pound
And back him up, to give — what we deserve.
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