Page:Carroll - Rhyme and Reason.djvu/227



, blow your trumpets till they crack,
 * Ye little men of little souls!

And bid them huddle at your back–
 * Gold-sucking leeches, shoals on shoals!

Fill all the air with hungry wails–
 * “Reward us, ere we think or write!

Without your Gold mere Knowledge fails
 * To sate the swinish appetite!”

And, where great Plato paced serene,
 * Or Newton paused with wistful eye,

Rush to the chace with hoofs unclean
 * And Babel-clamour of the sty!