[The distressed poet, in] Pickings from Puck Being a choice collection of preeminently perfect pieces, poems and pictures from Puck : Fifth Crop |
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 | [The distressed poet, in] Pickings from Puck |  |
8
THE DISTRESSED POET.
(Pantoum.)
O where is the rhyme that I need?
I have cudgeled my brains for a word,
Without it I ne'er can proceed,
And to wait for it seems so absurd.
I have cudgeled my brains for a word,
Without it I ne'er can proceed,
And to wait for it seems so absurd.
I have cudgeled my brains for a word,
I have thought of all rhymes but the right one,
And to wait for it seems so absurd,
But at verse I was never a bright one.
I have thought of all rhymes but the right one,
And to wait for it seems so absurd,
But at verse I was never a bright one.
I have thought of all rhymes but the right one,
(I wonder how great poets do?)
But at verse I was never a bright one,
When the Muse I've endeavored to woo.
(I wonder how great poets do?)
But at verse I was never a bright one,
When the Muse I've endeavored to woo.
I wonder how great poets do
When something inspires them to write.
When the Muse I've endeavored to woo,
I'm sure to get endings so trite.
When something inspires them to write.
When the Muse I've endeavored to woo,
I'm sure to get endings so trite.
When something inspires them to write,
Are they never at loss for a rhyme?
I'm sure to get endings so trite,
Though my thought may be really sublime.
Are they never at loss for a rhyme?
I'm sure to get endings so trite,
Though my thought may be really sublime.
Are they never at loss for a rhyme?
Do they never have trouble at all?
Though my thought may be really sublime,
The right word will not come at my call.
Do they never have trouble at all?
Though my thought may be really sublime,
The right word will not come at my call.
Do they never have trouble at all?
(How delightful to be a great poet.)
The right word will not come at my call,
I shall never succeed, and I know it.
(How delightful to be a great poet.)
The right word will not come at my call,
I shall never succeed, and I know it.
How delightful to be a great poet,
How fine it must be to be clever.
I shall never succeed, and I know it,
Why not forswear rhyming forever?
How fine it must be to be clever.
I shall never succeed, and I know it,
Why not forswear rhyming forever?
How fine it must be to be clever,
But what must he do who is dull?
Why not forswear rhyming forever?
When every attempt is as null?
But what must he do who is dull?
Why not forswear rhyming forever?
When every attempt is as null?
But what must he do who is dull,
And how shall he ever proceed
When every attempt is as null?
O where is the rhyme that I need?
And how shall he ever proceed
When every attempt is as null?
O where is the rhyme that I need?
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