Classic Poem

Why did not Fate to me bequeath an
Utterance Elizabethan?

It would have been delight to me
If natus ante 1603.

My stuff would not be soon forgotten
If I could write like Harry Wotton.

I wish that I could wield the pen
Like William Drummond of Hawthornden.

I would not fear the ticking clock
If I were Browne of Tavistock.

For blithe conceits I would not worry
If I were Raleigh, or the Earl of Surrey

I wish (I hope I am not silly?)
That I could juggle words like Lyly

I envy many a lyric champion,
I. e., viz., e. g., Thomas Campion.

I creak my rhymes up like a derrick,
I ne'er will be a Robin Herrick.

My wits are dull as an old Barlow —
I wish that I were Christopher Marlowe.

In short, I'd like to be Philip Sidney,
Or some one else of that same kidney.

For if I were, my lady's looks
And all my lyric special pleading
Would be in all the future books,
And called, at college, Required Reading .