Unfairly MRS. ASQUITH
With serious scribes competes;
But these are minor evils--
What makes me cuss and damn
Are novels from the nursery
And poems from the pram.

When on the concert platform
The prodigy appears
I do not grudge his welcome,
The clappings and the cheers;
But I can't forgive the people
Who down our throats would cram
The novelists from the nursery,
The poets from the pram.

I met a (once) best seller,
And I took him by the hand,
And asked, "How's OPAL WHITELEY
And how does DAISY stand?"
He answered, "I can only
See sloppiness and sham
In novels from the nursery
And poems from the pram."

If I were only despot,
To end this painful feud
I'd banish straight to Mespot
The scribbling infant brood,
And bar the importation,