Classic Poem

(Too hard it is to sing
In these untuneful times,
When only coin can ring,
And no one cares for rhymes!

Alas! for him who climbs
To Aganippe's spring:
Too hard it is to sing
In these untuneful times!

His kindred clip his wing;
His feet the critic limes;
If Fame her laurel bring,
Old age his forehead rimes:
Too hard it is to sing
In these untuneful times!)