Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By IrvingBrowne633 At Shakespeares Grave
D
For no one wishes to disturb these stones,
Nor cares if here or in the outer yard
They stow your impudent, deceitful bones.
With its preposterous expanse of brow,
Shall rival Humpty Dumpty’s famous fall,
And cheats no cultured Boston people now.
Hoard money, booze, neglect Anne Hathaway,—
You can’t deceive us with your stolen arts;
Like many a worthier dog, you’ve had your day.
I ’ve done your sum for all ensuing time,
I don’t know what you longer wish to lie for
Beneath these stones or in your doggerel rhyme.
Or walk the chancel with a ghostly squeak,
You were an ignorant and evil liver,
Who could not spell, nor write, nor read much Greek.
And Fame has blown no reputation louder,
Your cake is dough, for I by sifting well
Have quite reduced your dust to Bacon-powder.