To the Author of a Sonnet
Thy verse is "sad" enough, no doubt:A devilish deal more sad than witty!Why we should weep I can't find out,Unless for thee we weep in pity.
Yet there is one I pity more;And much, alas! I think he needs it:For he, I'm sure, will suffer sore,Who, to his own misfortune, reads it.
Thy rhymes, without the aid of magic,May once be read--but never after:Yet their effect's by no means tragic,Although by far too dull for laughter.
But would you make our bosoms bleed,And of no common pang complain--If you would make us weep indeed,Tell us, you'll read them o'er again.
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