ABSTRACT
So, you don’t think there’s a Word’s-worth of good poetry in the treat L.B.! I daren’t put the dreaded syllables at their just length, for my back tingles from the northern castigation. . . .
’Tis half-past twelve o’clock, and all sober people ought to be a-bed. Between you and me, the Lyrical Ballads are but drowsy performances.
