ADVICE TO THE GRUB STREET VERSE-WRITERS

JONATHAN SWIFT

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       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 special care
        To leave the margin wide.

       Lend these to paper-sparing Pope;
        And when he sets to write,
     No letter with an envelope
        Could give him more delight.

       When Pope has fill'd the margins round,
        Why then recall your loan;
     Sell them to Curll for fifty pound,
        And swear they are your own.