POETRY.
SONG OF THE HAPPY RHYMESTER,
I AM the happiest of men :
I live (just barely) by my pen. I rise at sev'n, and on till one Fulfil the tale of labour done. And then from afternoon till night I walk and think of things to write. Above all salaries I reek Th' uncertain glory of a cheque; Above all laws of right and wrong Th' inexorable laws of song. My head is humming all the day With jolly, jostling words at play, And I amid them roam about Romping and tempting each one out (The rhymes especially) by name To leap into my joyous game, Enticing and by them enticed To link in line, to join in tryst, And often when I go to bed Still they keep running in my head And calling me to play with them : "If not at once, at 8 a.m." Who would not, then, be one of us P Princes, and you most dolorous!
Prime Ministers and Lords of Session! Merchants and men of staid profession! We be the happiest of men Who lire (just barely) by the pen !
WILFRID BLAIR.
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