Let us love this modern world, or at least Accept what it offers with some show of grace. Let us try to enjoy the silliest Jazz-joke. And in the crooner's contorted face Let us try to imagine a romantic, An heroic symbol of commercial love And contraceptive innocence. Let us not be pedantic, Bitter, vitiate in a derelict groove. I am in earnest, ignore my cynic, he Is a leering prophet whom I've twenty times Cast into exterior darkness, but, ah me! That snake still spits his venom through my rhymes. Accept the present, be moved by mass appeal And do not heed the lonely ideal O let you be a spark from the world's fast wheel Though it turns upon the spindle-shank of Hell.
§ In the final line, ‘it turns’ is circled and ‘it reel’ written alongside.