I am but a worm
Bowed down at your shrine,
Offering up
What small words are mine.
I know it's unlikely
Your heights I'll attain
So I'm resigned to repeat,
To revise yet again.
This drudgery, toil,
And all to what gain?
To lift up from this soil
A sweeter refrain.
My dearest book fairy,
Look kindly on me,
And give me some hope that
A poet I’ll be.?...
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