In My Prime Poem by Princewill Thompson

I am not awestruck everything I write,
Is unto you dull-witted and unsharp,
For your beguil'd brain knoweth no delight,
Except judging of harmonic harp.
But you, who far and near esteems music,
Whose act all day is forsaking regret,
Who forgos shame and gives essence a dink,
Whose mind as an olympian longs to get.
Who fancies kumbaya or fathoms pitch,
Who for a moment wishes all different,
Who open-minded worthy now to teach,
With a thousand dreamy loves like my verse.
Ah, come now unto this printing of rhyme,
Come, consider, commend me in my prime.