The poem seems as easy as a chat in Pall Mall last night between some intelligent men, which, read two hundred years hence, would inform the reader of the trend of thought and feeling in this present day.

But in reality to do this kind of thing well is to do a very difficult thing.

It needs a full knowledge, a full imagination and a masterly execution.

Yet when we read the poem, it seems as natural as the breaking out of blossoms.

This is that divine thing, the ease of genius.
The scenery of the poem is as usual clear.