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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357833" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Censor</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Censor sits behind his desk,<br>And smiles a censored smile;<br> His great, blue pencil hovers o'er<br>Some masterpiece awhile,<br>Then swoops - oh, child of whose poor ravished brain?<br>Coldly another innnocent is slain!<br>The Censor is a murderer.<br>None knows his secret lair,<br> Nor all the dark and awful deeds<br>He does in ambush there.<br>No eye has seen his charnel-house - it's floor<br>With literary corpses littered o'er.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Censor is a crocodile.<br>Beneath that slimy flood,<br>The Waters of Oblivion,<br>He seeks his livelihood.<br>His gloating eye marks children of my pen;<br>He draws them under from the sight of men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Censor is a nibbling mouse.<br>The fair cheese of my mind<br>He rifles till there's nothing left<br>But atmosphere and rind.<br>That fair, round cheese, formed lovingly by me,<br>From milk of thought and curds of poesy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Censor is an elephant.<br> With large, ungainly feet<br> He dances on the glad, green fields<br> I sowed in toil and heat,<br>Till all the fairest flow'rs of thought are slain,<br>And only unaesthetic weeds remain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Censor is the Fiend of Storms.<br>Upon the Inky Sea,<br>In fear, my poor, frail craft I launch;<br>Then, with unholy glee,<br>He makes the winds tear howling through the shrouds,<br>And sends fork'd death and shipwreck from the clouds.<br>The Censor is a sorceror.<br>Above rare fruits that grow<br>Upon the tree of genius<br>His hand waves to and fro.<br>Hey, Presto! And their lusciousness is slain -<br>Apples of Sodom, Dead Sea Fruit remain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Censor is a hooded snake<br>That lurks within the grass,<br>And rears to sink his poison-fangs<br>In heedless babes that pass <br>Dear Children of my brain; wee, tender things,<br>That sink and swoon and perish when he stings.<br>And still he is a gentleman;<br>This much I will admit.<br>In 'Correspondence Columns' he<br>Seeks not to air his wit;<br>On shrinking backs he lays no caustic stripe,<br>Nor stoops to call our Masterpieces 'tripe'!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357833" data-title="The Censor de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="The Censor sits behind his desk,
And smiles a censored smile;
 His great, blue pencil hovers o'er
Some masterpiece awhile,
Then swoops - oh, child of whose poor ravished brain?
Coldly another innnocent is slain!
The Censor is a murderer.
None know..."></div>
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