An Art Critic

2 0 00

An Art Critic

Ira P. Rankin, you’ve a nasal name⁠—

I’ll sound it through “the speaking-trump of fame,”

And wondering nations, hearing from afar

The brazen twang of its resounding jar,

Shall say: “These bards are an uncommon class⁠—

They blow their noses with a tube of brass!”

So you object to Cytherea! Do,

The picture was not painted, sir, for you!

Your mind to gratify and taste address,

The masking dove had been a dove the less.

Provincial censor! all untaught in art,

With mind indecent and indecent heart,

Do you not know⁠—nay, why should I explain?

Instruction, argument alike were vain⁠—

I’ll show you reasons when you show me brain.