To A Certain Critic Poem by George MacDonald
To A Certain Critic
Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind
When I my homely dish with care designed;
'Twas certain humble souls I would have fed
Who do not turn from wholesome milk and bread:
You came, slow-trotting on the narrow way,
O'erturned the food, and trod it in the clay;
Then low with discoid nostrils sniffing curt,
Cried, 'Sorry cook! why, what a mess of dirt!'
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4/24/2024 6:41:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
