It doth appear to me that in those times

The Muses quaffed not sparkling wine, but grog,

And that to grow immortal through one’s rhymes

Was ’bout as hard as falling off a log.

CONSOLATION

Shakespeare was not accounted great

Shakespeare

When good Queen Bess ruled England’s state,

So why should I to-day repine

Because the laurel is not mine?

Perhaps in twenty-ninety-three

Folks will begin to talk of me,

And somewhere statues may be built

Of me, in bronze, perhaps in gilt,

And sages full of quips and quirks

Will wonder if I wrote my works.

So why should I repine to-day

Because my brow wears not the bay?

SATISFACTION ON READING “NOT ONE DISSATISFIED,” BY WALT WHITMAN

ON READING “NOT ONE DISSATISFIED,” BY WALT WHITMAN

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