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I think that I shall never find
A critic both acute and kind,

Possessing both the skill and care
To read my verses rich and rare,

Who can appreciate their wit
And genuinely laugh at it,

But also see their sober soul
And brilliant metrical control,

Their mastery of metaphor,
And diamond hardness at the core.

I don’t suppose there’ll ever be
So keen a critic – save for me.