A poem by T.S. Eliot, written either in 1910 or 1916, originally from a manuscript now at the Beinecke Library at Yale.

Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited
If you consider my merits are small
Etiolated, alembicated,
Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,
Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,
Impotent galamatias
Affected, possibly imitated,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass

Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous
Awkward insipid and horribly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous
Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass
Attempts at emotions that turn isiculous,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

Ladies who think me unduly vociferous
Amiable cabotin making a noise
That people may cry out "this stuff is too stiff for us" -
Ingenuous child with a box of new toys
Toy lions carnivorous, cannons fumiferous
Engines vaporous - all this will pass;
Quite innocent - "he only wants to make shiver us."
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

And when thyself with silver foot shalt pass
Among the Theories scattered on the grass
Take up my good intentions with the rest
And then for Christ's sake stick them up your ass.

One of T.S. Eliot's early reactions to his critics; think of it as An Open Letter to the editors. The date of 1910 is more likely, and 1916 is probably the date of a later edition. The poem relies on a childish, simple contrast between the preceding complex and pompous criticisms put in the mouth of the Ladies and the concise obscenity ending each paragraph.

On the other hand, the lists of five dollar critical terms are not those of sincere or academic criticism, but of newspaper reviews and the Reader's Digest literary page. Eliot is perhaps most well known for his theories on the ideal critic, ideally an academic and conscientious poet; his superiority over his detractors stems from his production. The poem is thus, in effect, a criticism of literary criticism in poetic form.

Definitely not a great work, or even among his best, but shows much of his early style and the seeds of hs later views on poetry.

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