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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

IN HIS OWN COUNTRY, by                    
First Line: I made myself a poet in the place
Last Line: "he's got it bad, poor fool; we know the girl!"
Subject(s): Love - Unrequited


I MADE myself a poet in the place,
And blithely sang of college life and ways,
The pleasure of the undergraduate pace,
And all the joy between the holidays;
No care spoke ever in my careless song,
From graver strains I kept my pipe apart,
And played the upper notes; ah, was it wrong
To dream my music reached the student heart?

Upon a day one said, with kind intent:
"Why sing forever of these trivial things?
For better music was your piping meant;
Will you confess such earth-restricted wings?
Strike some Byronic chord, sublime and deep,
Find in ethereal flight the upper air,
And speak to us some word that we may keep
Within our hearts and ever treasure there!"

Then, with one pang for wasted hours, I gave
Another meaning to my faltering lay,
And sang of Life and Pain, an early grave,
Hope and Despair, and Love that lives alway;
But when I listened for an echoing heart,
I saw all other lips with laughter curl,
And heard them whisper jestingly apart,
"He's got it bad, poor fool; we know the girl!"





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