The Comfort of Obscurity
INSPIRED BY READING MR. KIPLING’S POEMS AS
PRINTED IN THE NEW YORK PAPERS
Though earnest and industrious,
I still am unillustrious;
No papers empty purses
Printing verses
Such as mine.
No lack of fame is chronicker
Than that about my monicker;
My verse is never cabled
At a fabled
Rate per line.
Still though the Halls
Of Literature are closed
To me a bard obscure I
Have a consolation The
Copyreaders crude and rough
Can’t monkey with my
Humble stuff and change MY
Punctuation.
