Fain would I be a man; now in no wise
My poems answer man’s distress and cries.
Some men will wile their idleness away
With them, as in a sumptuous cafe
In pleasured peace they listen for a time
To music sweetly veiling thought and rime.
The sad will seek no consolation here,
Women will be indifferent, and the sneer
From cynics’ bitter lips is sure to fall:
” Words, words, for ever words, and that is all.
This is a child crying ere it is hurt,
A mountebank in mimicry expert . . .
What call has he to moan of amorous woes,
He with his flute and sonnet-furbelows,
He who with wreaths of patient, polished lines
The marble of his little griefs entwines !”
Ladies and gentlemen, alas, ’tis true !
Give me the bitter genius I should need
To reach your hidden hearts, and make them bleed !
O I were fain if I could offer you
A book that lovers would for love’s sake keep,
And since there are but words, O that I knew
At least the magic words that make men weep.
(Charles Guerin)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Sadness Poems, Time Poems, Cry Poems, Woman Poems, Books Poems, Medicine & Medical PoemsBased on Keywords: entwines, idleness, expert, mimicry, cynics, mountebank, pleasured