O my Author, do you hear the Autumn calling? Does its message fail
to reach you in your den, Where the ink that once so sluggishly was
crawling Courses swiftly through your stylographic pen? 'Tis the
season when the editor grows active, When the office-boy looks
longingly to you. Won't you give him something novel and attractive
To review? Never mind if you are frivolous or solemn, If you only
can be striking and unique, The reviewers will concede you half a
column In their literary journals, any week. And 'twill always be
your publisher's ambition To provide for the demand that you
create, And dispose of a gigantic first edition, While you wait.
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