To Wheaton's Would-be Wit

Submitted by Alex Cumberbatch, R (China), Nov 9, 2007 at 10:30

Who'll steal your prose in time to come, fill'd with no Want of self-conceit? Though hierophants declare it as the clouds which cloister Narnia's arts, To show all Oxbridge smarts. If I could ignite Your pupils, And in votive numbers Number all their theses The age to come would say ‘No way! Such golden touches ne'er touched mortal faeces. ' Of your papers, piss-coloured with age, Torn old critic for whom truth is rage, ‘Great poetry preaches like Termagant's tongue Sweetened with rhymes galore from nurs'ry song': All work of yours should long survive this Time, Where'er to publish it will never be Crime.

Note: Opinions expressed in comments are those of the authors alone and not necessarily those of Daniel Pipes. Original writing only, please. Comments are screened and in some cases edited before posting. Reasoned disagreement is welcome but not comments that are scurrilous, off-topic, commercial, disparaging religions, or otherwise inappropriate. For complete regulations, see the "Guidelines for Reader Comments".