At a Lecture.
By Edward Shanks
The lecturer took his place and looked
At the eager women's faces,
Then he cleared his throat and he jetted out
A stream of commonplaces.
He fondled Wordsworth and patted Shelley
And said with his hand on his heart
He would brook no interference from morals
In any matter of art.
He finished at last and strode away
Over the naked boards,
Erect in his conscious majesty
Back to the House of Lords.