Good for the poet who applies
His art in royal chambers' splendor.
Of tears and laughter crafty vendor,
Adding some truth to many lies,
He tickles the sated taste of lords
For more greatness and awards.
And decorates all their feasts,
Receiving clever praise as fees...
But, by the doors, so tall and stout --
On sides of stables and backyards --
The people, haunted by the guards,
Hark to this poet in a crowd.