Epigrams must be curt, nor seem
Tail-pieces to a poet’s dream.
If they should anywhere be found
Serious, or musical in sound
Turn into prose the two worst pages
And you will rank among the sages.
“Witches and poets co-embrace like fate,
Reputed base, bare, poor, unfortunate.
In these respects I may myself intrude
Among the poets’ thickest multitude.
Here lies that poet, buried in the night,
Whose purse, men know it, was exceeding light.”
Henry Parrot | “Fatales Poetae”