9. Momus

“WHERE’S the need of singing now?”—

Smooth your brow,

Momus, and be reconciled,

For King Kronos is a child—

Child and father,

Or god rather,

And all gods are wild.

“Who reads Byron any more?”—

Shut the door,

Momus, for I feel a draught;

Shut it quick, for some one laughed.—

“What’s become of

Browning? Some of

Wordsworth lumbers like a raft?

“What are poets to find here?”—

Have no fear:

When the stars are shining blue

There will yet be left a few

Themes availing—

And these failing,

Momus, there’ll be you.