All Things can Tempt Me
| All things can tempt me from this craft of verse: |
| One time it was a woman’s face, or worse— |
| The seeming needs of my fool-driven land; |
| Now nothing but comes readier to the hand |
| Than this accustomed toil. When I was young, |
| I had not given a penny for a song |
| Did not the poet sing it with such airs |
| That one believed he had a sword upstairs; |
| Yet would be now, could I but have my wish, |
| Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish. |
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