And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:
While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,
With sure returns of still expected rhymes;
Wher’er you find “the cooling western breeze”,
In the next line, it “whispers through the trees”;
If crystal streams “with pleasing murmurs creep”,
The reader’s threatened (not in vain) with “sleep”
Hmmm….
