O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?
O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?
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
"Yes, it is a press, certainly, but a press from which shall soon flow in inexhaustible streams the most abundant and most marvelous liquor that has ever flowed to relieve the thirst of man! Through it God will spread His Word. A spring of pure truth shall flow from it! Like a new star, it …