Poor little book, but you're safer here;
Why seek Booksellers' Row — and Fame?
Mistress Rome is a blasee dame,
All her children will gibe and jeer:
Even her babies can sniff and sneer.
Young and old, they are all the same,
Poor little book, but you're safer here,
Why seek Booksellers' Row — and Fame?
They whose applause may seem sincere
Soon will toss you aside to shame.
Think you my pen is too austere?
Go then fly ere it harm and maim,
Poor little book — but you're safer here.