Where Have All the Poets Gone?

Where have all the poets gone,
Whose metered cadences unfurled,
The ones whose noble verses rhymed,
Whose hillsides were dew-pearled?

Where is the poet now who writes:
When as in silk my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes?

That Kirk an' State may join, and tell
To do sic things I maunna:
That Kirk an' State may gae to hell,
And I'll gae to my Anna.

Who fondly praised the clever turtle
That lives twixt plated decks,
The turtle who is yet so fertile,
Despite concealment of its sex?

Where have all the poets gone
Who sang throughout the ages?
Are they replaced by blank verse now
That dribbles down the pages?

Where have all the poets gone
Who tintinabulated,
With a pretty how town,
And floating bells down,
Or is all that stuff too dated?