All the wishfuls desperately cry:
“Muse! Muse! O Muse! ”
But where is the muse
To enthuse
...
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If the aspirants expire And the amateurs atherise And the hopefuls are all Bar’d Then it’s my Muse that uses I.
Ah, another astounding piece by Ms. White! I do believe this is officially on my favorite list, simply because of the third stanza. Keep up the great writing!
(no! ! ! i do not mis-use drugs) i guess i'm an amatuer.