The C. Valerius Catullus Society


by Alfred Tennyson

          O you chorus of indolent reviewers,
          Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,
          Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem
          All composed in a metre of Catullus
          All in quantity, careful of my motion,
          Like a skater on ice that hardly bears him,
          Lest I fall unawares before the people,
          Waking laughter in indolent reviewers.
          Should I flounder awhile without a tumble
          Through this metrification of Catullus,
          They should speak to me not without a welcome,
          All that chorus of indolent reviewers.
          Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tumble,
          So fantastical is the dainty metre.
          Wherefore slight me not wholly, nor believe me
          Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers.
          O blatant Magazines, regard me rather---
          Since I blush to belaud myself a moment---
          As some rare little rose, a piece of inmost
          Horticultural art, or half coquette-like
          Maiden, not to be greeted unbenignly.