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William Schwenck Gilbert - True Diffidence
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My boy, you may take it from me,
That of all the afflictions accurst
With which a man`s saddled
And hampered and addled,
A diffident nature`s the worst.
Though clever as clever can be -
A Crichton of early romance -
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven`t a chance.

Now take, for example, MY case:
I`ve a bright intellectual brain -
In all London city
There`s no one so witty -
I`ve thought so again and again.
I`ve a highly intelligent face -
My features cannot be denied -
But, whatever I try, sir,
I fail in - and why, sir?
I`m modesty personified!

As a poet, I`m tender and quaint -
I`ve passion and fervour and grace -
From Ovid and Horace
To Swinburne and Morris,
They all of them take a back place.
Then I sing and I play and I paint;
Though none are accomplished as I,
To say so were treason:
You ask me the reason?
I`m diffident, modest, and shy!
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