I’ll be with your Gigadibs — despise
    You, root and branch and lock and barrel;
The filmy way you use your eyes;
    The words you take for your apparel;
The way you edit with discretion;
The poetry you pick for nice
Work of a safe and sane profession.

You should be shown the edge of the sword,
    And taught to die for a stubborn phrase
Or burn on pyres for a word!
    And have swift passions, in a horde,
Run up and peer into your face
And jeer your petty, petty grace —
Have mercy on Thy Poets, Lord!

Here, learn the temper of the tool
    You wield so avid for success.
I will not touch your “beautiful” —
    Carve beauty more and rant her less…
The English Language is no whore —
What are you making rhyme-schemes for?