Lines to an Editor

SHALL I consolation find
When my manuscript’s declined,
In the fact that I may read
‘Not adapted to our need’?
Nay, ’t is easier to flatter
Than to show me what’s the matter.
Your rejection slip, forsooth,
Means (could I but know the truth),
‘If this looks not good to me
What care I how bad it be?’

You’re too bored to criticize,
So you tell your courteous lies;
You declare (it does you credit)
That you ‘personally read it’;
You ‘are glad’ (it sounds halfwitted!)
’To read all manuscripts submitted.’
In such phrases you have sought
To disguise your secret thought:
‘If this looks not good to me
What care I how bad it be?’

All your phrases debonair
Simply mean you do not care.
May there never come a season
When you’ll give your real reason!
Kindly fibs I much prefer,
Go on telling them, dear Sir!
Thank me lots, as heretofore,
Never write me I’m a bore.
Mine is not a seeker’s mind, —
Don’t explain, please,’why declined.’

If this makes a homeward trip,
Send your usual printed slip
With its kind appreciation:
‘After due consideration’ . . .
‘We regret’ . . . with subtle praise
In each dear familiar phrase;
All that’s tactful and polite,
Only, prithee do not write
What you really think, i.e.,
‘If this looks not good to me
What care I how bad it be?’