Envoi Extraordinaire, L'
It has (once) been said that of tongue or pen
The saddest words are, “It might have been.”
But it seems to me—and it may to you—
These words in a way are consoling too.
For instance,—end of the road at last,
My rhymes and I now things of the past,—
You can surely say of my vagrom verse
That, all things considered, it might have been—worse.
For I give you my word, as a minstrel bold,
Songs even less tuneful I might have trolled.
If there seem too much from my scrapbook store,
There 's comfort in this: it might have been—more.
For I pledge you my faith, both as poet and man,
There are bolts yet unhurled in my barbican.
And this burden of verse that you now have resigned,
It might have been epic—if I'd had a mind!
The saddest words are, “It might have been.”
But it seems to me—and it may to you—
These words in a way are consoling too.
For instance,—end of the road at last,
My rhymes and I now things of the past,—
You can surely say of my vagrom verse
That, all things considered, it might have been—worse.
For I give you my word, as a minstrel bold,
Songs even less tuneful I might have trolled.
If there seem too much from my scrapbook store,
There 's comfort in this: it might have been—more.
For I pledge you my faith, both as poet and man,
There are bolts yet unhurled in my barbican.
And this burden of verse that you now have resigned,
It might have been epic—if I'd had a mind!
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