Th'art free with compliments and praises, and such,
Render the open eye distrustful at the touch,
Such deluge of fine phrase, without inflection
Of doubt or irony, requires reflection.
And to this strange conclusion come we all:
It is untrue -- the foolish shepherd's call
Of wolf, alone against the village night,
Offered as some excuse to join the light.
This flavor causes one to flinch from touch
By one who praising, praises over-much.
Thus is the sad conclusion of reflection --
Your iron, though soft, is just projection.

Winifred Bigelow Ames
Songs in the Distant Bushes
Naughty Editions, inc., Saville, 1908