A WIT, transported with Inditing,
Unpay'd, unprais'd, yet ever Writing;
Who, for all Fights and Fav'rite Friends,
Had Poems at his Fingers Ends;
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Till when, let those converse in private, Who taste what others don't arrive at Wow that's a deep couplet. This poem is a veritable beauty
This poem is dreadful. The poet submits without resistance.