James Kenneth Stephen

To R. K.

As long I dwell on some stupendous
  And tremendous (Heaven defend us!)
  Monstr’-inform’-ingens-horrendous
  Demoniaco-seraphic
  Penman’s latest piece of graphic.
                BROWNING.
  Will there never come a season
  Which shall rid us from the curse
  Of a prose which knows no reason
  And an unmelodious verse:
  When the world shall cease to wonder
  At the genius of an Ass,
  And a boy’s eccentric blunder
  Shall not bring success to pass:
  When mankind shall be delivered
 From the clash of magazines,
 And the inkstand shall be shivered
 Into countless smithereens:
 When there stands a muzzled stripling,
 Mute, beside a muzzled bore:
 When the Rudyards cease from kipling
 And the Haggards Ride no more.
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