Poor Poet

Poor Poetby Robert W 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 self—
         Please people too.