We Poets Poem by John A. Hancock

Oh what a troubled lot we poets are
When romance comes to play
Words of jest and tragedy
In the words of love we say
Such a burden upon our shoulders we bare
When the yoke of love rests there
To carry with us where we go
Down a path we know not leads where
The gift of verse be a two edged sword
When drawn tis a worthy blade to heed
To hold in one's hand such mystic power
In mere mortal ones as we
We've known both joy and sorrow
In our waking day and moon lit dreams
Minds that ne'er rest for the words
From our feather pen they bleed