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Poem	I'd rather have my verses win A place in common people's hearts, Who, toiling through the strife and din Of life's great thoroughfares, and marts, May read some line my hand has penned; Some simple verse, not fine, or grand, But what their hearts can understand And hold me henceforth as a friend,-- I'd rather win such quiet fame Than by some fine thought, bolished so But those of learned minds would know, Just what the meaning of my song,-- To have the critics sound my name In high-flown praises, loud and long. I sing not for the I'd rather have my verses win A place in common people's hearts, Who, toiling through the strife and din Of life's great thoroughfares, and marts, May read some line my hand has penned; Some simple verse, not fine, or grand, But what their hearts can understand And hold me henceforth as a friend,-- I'd rather win such quiet fame Than by some fine thought, bolished so But those of learned minds would know, Just what the meaning of my song,-- To have the critics sound my name In high-flown praises, loud and long. I sing not for the critic's ear, But for the masses. If they hear Despite the turmoil, noise, and strife Some least low note that gladdens life, I shall be wholly satisfied, Though critics to the end deride. ear, But for the masses. If they hear Despite the turmoil, noise, and strife Some least low note that gladdens life, I shall be wholly satisfied, Though critics to the end deride.
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