To His Coy Asker

with apologies to Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, asker, were no crime.
I would sit down, and think which Y
Thou meanst, and pass my editing eye.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find, then by the tide
Of downvotes wouldst complain. I would
Defend you e'en before the flood,
And you'd refuse — you're no milquetoast —
To edit or improve your post.
My tries to glean your intent 'd grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to raise
The quality of turn of phrase;
Two hundred to adorn each clause
With comma, colon, other pause.
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, asker, you deserve this state,
Nor would I care at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Closers, deleters, hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast /dev/nullity.
Thy question shall no more be found;
Nor, in its marble vault, shall sound
My emendations; then worms shall try
That long-preserved inclarity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And all my efforts into rust;
The bitbucket's a gracious host,
But none, I think, do there read posts.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy post like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now improve your post while you may,
And now, like querying bird of prey,
Rather at once thy time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Or, better, ask it first of all
So it for edits has no call,
And thus avoid voters' rough strife
And Stack Exchange's excising knife:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

To His Coy Asker

with apologies to Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, asker, were no crime.
I would sit down, and think which Y
Thou meanst, and pass my editing eye.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find, then by the tide
Of downvotes wouldst complain. I would
Defend you e'en before the flood,
And you'd refuse — you're no milquetoast —
To edit or improve your post.
My tries to glean your intent 'd grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to raise
The quality of turn of phrase;
Two hundred to adorn each clause
With comma, colon, other pause.
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, asker, you deserve this state,
Nor would I care at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Closers, deleters, hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast /dev/nullity.
Thy question shall no more be found;
Nor, in its marble vault, shall sound
My emendations; then worms shall try
That long-preserved inclarity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And all my efforts into rust;
The bitbucket's a gracious host,
But none, I think, do there read posts.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy post like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now improve your post while you may,
And now, like querying bird of prey,
Rather at once thy time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Or, better, ask it first of all
So it for edits has no call,
And thus avoid voters' rough strife
And Stack Exchange's excising knife:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.