Classic Poem

At half-past three he gets around to hear
Herr Stimerthal, the well-known chanticleer.
The singer takes so long to clear his throat,
The critic cannot stay to hear a note.

Three-fifty finds him in another hall,
Where chamber music holds a host in thrall.
He stays a minute here, then hurries off
To hear the new pianist, Hupinkoff.

At four-fifteen he strikes the Studebaker,
To listen to another music-maker.
'Tis intermission, and ere that is done
The busy critic has to up and run.

So, like the bee that flits from sweet to sweeter,
Or like the man who comes to read the meter,
The music critic makes his merry round,
And covers, as it were, a lot of ground.