Classic Poem

You ask me what was his intent?
In truth I'm not a German; —
'Tis plain though that he neither meant
A Lecture nor a Sermon.

But there it is, the thing's a Fact.
I find no other reason
But that some scribbling itch attacked
Him in and out of season,

To write what no one else should read, —
With this for second meaning,
To " cleanse his bosom" (and indeed
It sometimes wanted cleaning);

To speak, as 'twere, his private mind
Unhindered by repression,
To make his motley life a kind
Of Midas' ears confession;

And thus outgrew this work per se , —
This queer, kaleidoscopic,
Delightful, blabbing, vivid, free
Hotch-pot of daily topic,

So artless in its vanity,
So fleeting, so eternal,
So packed with " poor Humanity" —
We know as Pepys his Journal.