Classic Poem

I mind the days when ladies fair
Helped on my overcoat
And tucked the silken handkerchief
About my precious throat;
They used to see the poet's soul
In every song I wrote.
They pleaded hard, but I had work
To do, and could not stay—
I used to work the whole night through,
And what have you to say?

'Twas clever, handsome women then,
And I their rising star;
I could not see they worshipped me,
Because I saw too far.
('Tis well for one or two, I think,
That things are as they are.)
(I used to write for writing's sake,
I used to write till day;
I loved my prose and poetry,
And what have you to say?)

I guess if one should meet me now
That she would gasp to think
She ever knew a thing like me,
As down the street I slink,
And trembling cadge from some old pal
The tray-bit for a drink.
I used to drink with gentlemen
To pass an hour away;
I drink long beers in common bars,
And what have you to say?

But often, in the darkest night—
And 'tis a wondrous thing—
When others see the devils dance
I hear the angels sing,
And round the drunkard's lonely bed
Heaven's nurses whispering.
I wrote for Truth and Right alone,
I wrote from night till day;
I'll find a drunken pauper grave,
And what have you to say?
Good night!
Good day!
My noble friends,
And what have you to say?