Martin Patrick McCarthy

This Sullen Craft

Ay me! Why does Poesy wish me to draft;
To wilfully engage in this sullen craft?
Ill-begotten I am, dull is my pen
For it has no power to wound the hearts of men.
All that which I summon forth is smart
Since my Muse is kindled only by flame of heart.
What fool seeks to embrace my pain?
Only a lunatic would wish his pain upon himself again.

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