Sonnet to a Sorehead to Hollis Randolph Thayer-Smith
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What yapping rhymes are these that first saw light
On All Fools Day in all their foolish cant?
Whose but a student's discontented rant.
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Such whining sophistry and censure trite?
Their type of nihilism's always glad
Authorities to slander and abuse.
While in some specious language they confuse
The bad and good, since all to them is bad.
Oh drivel-lines that biteless bark, and choose
A safe incognito to take a fling.
Above your howls the voice of truth will sing
Triumphant o'er a prostituted muse.
Oh Freedom of the Press so great in fame.
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