Classic Poem

I don't care to convince anybody of anything.
Nor expect to change a single person
from what he is to what he might be,
were I he.
That would toss an insult
to whatever it was made him
or made me.
I've enough of a job, as it is,
trying to edit myself.
With the aid and frustration
of what was given me to attempt it.
Whatever it was made me must know
it takes a lot of time even to think this out.
A passionate concentration of energies
to produce a single act of any sort.
A fearless impact of silent tides
and only a shell for the effort.
With a thin uncertain echo
scarce an ear can find the way to.
Most of the love gone to waste.
Whatever it was
left me alone from the start
with what was given me.
To start me, attempt me, lose me,
find me, lose me, be me.
I wish folk would leave that alone.
And not care to convince me of anything.