The Taste of the Times lyrics

by

Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Some whim or fancy pleases every eye;
For talents premature 'tis now the rage:
In Music how great Handel would have smil'd
T' have seen what crowds are raptur'd with a child!
A Garrick we have had in little Betty—
And now we're told we have a Pitt in Petty!
All must allow, since thus it is decreed,
He is a very petty Pitt indeed!

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