Encased in talent like a uniform, The rank of every poet is well
known; They can amaze us like a
thunderstorm, Or die so young, or live for
years alone.
They can dash forward like
hussars: but he Must struggle out of his boyish
gift and learn How to be plain and awkward, how
to be One after whom none think it
worth to turn.
For, to achieve his lightest
wish, he must Become the whole of boredom,
subject to Vulgar complaints like love,
among the Just
Be just, among the Filthy filthy
too, And in his own weak person, if
he can, Dully put up with all the wrongs
of Man.