An Art Critic

Ira P. Rankin, you’ve a nasal name⁠—
I’ll sound it through “the speaking-trump of fame,”
And wondering nations, hearing from afar
The brazen twang of its resounding jar,
Shall say: “These bards are an uncommon class⁠—
They blow their noses with a tube of brass!”

So you object to Cytherea! Do,
The picture was not painted, sir, for you!
Your mind to gratify and taste address,
The masking dove had been a dove the less.
Provincial censor! all untaught in art,
With mind indecent and indecent heart,
Do you not know⁠—nay, why should I explain?
Instruction, argument alike were vain⁠—
I’ll show you reasons when you show me brain.