High And Dry Poem by Hannington Mumo

Dull views filled his whole range of sight.
He recalled many occasions when Muse
Came knocking and lodged for the night;
He may have inked a magnum opus then.

But he had missed such a glorious chance.
He now tasked his mulish quill to advance
Far sweeter anthems sung in clearer notes,
In better tones unmarred by prosaic faults.

His lusterless rhyme he sought to inspire
With strokes by pens muted by the grave,
But he felt himself a feet-fettered farer
Unused to the odd paths mimicry gave.

Neither Shakespeare nor Sidney could
Help tell of his sad misery in the Wood.
And Yeats and Keats both equally failed
To get his imaginary heroics fully hailed.

We seldom hear his ink's praises these days,
As he in the manner above lost all rare grace.