It is such a drag
Not going for a fag,
especially during the nighttime.
.
It makes me feel antsy,
Cos all that I fancy's
Some quality Marlboro Light time.
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
This just makes me ill your name is dripping from my pen
As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug's game. No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: He may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing.
T. S. Eliot