Ye poets ragged and forlorn,Down from your garrets haste;Ye rhymers, dead as soon as born,Not yet consign'd to paste; I know a trick to make you thrive;O, 'tis a quaint device:Your still-born poems shall revive,And scorn to wrap up spice. Get all your verses printed fair,Then let them well be dried;And Curll must have a …

Continue reading Poetry: Swift – Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers