The quiet thought

As I am writing in my chair

A quiet thought arrives:

Why do I write? How do I dare

To presume to change lives?

 

Why should I for a moment think

That which I’ve said’s profound?

That all will still my poems drink

When I am in the ground?

 

This tort’rous thought traps me in webs

Of which I can’t escape

While fleeting inspiration ebbs;

In doubt I myself drape.

Sonnet 10

‘Tis said a man can walk his life alone—
That others form a not unwelcome part
But one that is unneeded for his heart—
That by himself he can his talents hone. 

This grand and spurious fallacy is e’er
About when talks of “manliness” occur
When men take truth and right and them inter
‘Til more convenient truths take to the air.

 Forever’t seems we struggle ‘gainst such thought
Some misbegotten, fruitless, mad ideals
That seem so deaf to reasonéd appeals;
With peril reason’d words are ever fraught. 

For ‘til the day can come when reason wins,
Men will be filled with barb’rous, “manly” sins.