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Robert W Service - Sympathy
Work rating: Low

My Muse is simple,—yet it`s nice
To think you don`t need to think twice
                    On words I write.
I reckon I`ve a common touch
And if you say I cuss too much
                    I answer: `Quite!`

I envy not the poet`s lot;
He has something I haven`t got,
                    Alas, I know.
But I have something maybe he
Would envy just a mite in me,—
                    I`m rather low.

For I am cast of common clay,
And from a ditch I fought my way,
                    And that is why
The while the poet scans the skies,
My gaze is grimly gutterwise,
                    Earthy am I.

And yet I have a gift, perhaps
Denied to proud poetic chaps
                    Who scoff at me;
I know the hearts of humble folk;
I too have bowed beneath the yoke:
So let my verse for them evoke
                    Your sympathy.
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