Poor Poet
Robert William Service
‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his own work,—speechless with woe He came not back. I hate to think he took to drink, And passed away; I have not heard of him a word Unto this day. A man must write to please himself, Of all it’s true; But happy they who spurning pelf— Please people too.
Next 10 Poems
- Robert William Service : Portent
- Robert William Service : Portrait
- Robert William Service : Post Office Romance
- Robert William Service : Pragmatic
- Robert William Service : Prayer
- Robert William Service : Prelude
- Robert William Service : Premonition
- Robert William Service : Priscilla
- Robert William Service : Privacy
- Robert William Service : Procreation
Previous 10 Poems
- Robert William Service : Poor Peter
- Robert William Service : Poor Kid
- Robert William Service : Poor Cock Robin
- Robert William Service : Pooch
- Robert William Service : Politeness
- Robert William Service : Poet's Path
- Robert William Service : Poet And Peer
- Robert William Service : Plebeian Plutocrat
- Robert William Service : Playboy
- Robert William Service : Pipe Smoker