By James Stanley Gilbert
The rhymster should apologize, perhaps,
For many a silly jest and foolish lapse;
But, then, no purposed mischief hath he done,
And truth, you know, oft masquerades as fun.
It may be that his utterances trite
Some good may do—some senseless wrong may right.
There may be, 'mongst them all, one word with pow'r
To call a smile—to cheer some lonely hour:
Of so, then, he whose sentences involved
Contain more puzzles than may e'er be solved,
Fore'er deserts his feeble, unfledged Muse—
His tuneless lyre abandons to disuse!
If so—if happ'ly so!—then ring the bell,
And drop the curtain. 'Tis a glad farewell!