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A POET'S GRIEVANCE
Yes, sir! my name is Milton—Spenser Milton.
Am I descended from the famous John?
I knew you'd ask that—everybody puts
That question to me, making me sometimes
Fit to blaspheme the poet's memory,
By which I've all my life been handicapped.
"Paradise Lost" I've often wished had been
Lost literally and never more Regained.
John Milton was John Milton, I'm myself:
He had his special talent, I have mine:
'Tis true indeed a family tradition
(I care not for its authenticity)
Asserts we are descended from the poet:
But can you give me any reason why
One family should not produce two poets?
I couldn't write a "Paradise" I'll own,
And if I could I would not: but could John
With all his genius have composed that song,
So full of patriotic inspiration,
Of foreign foes so scornfully defiant,
So trumpet-like in its triumphant measure,
Which the great MacMungo sang with such success
At almost every Music Hall in England,
And which so roused the spirit of the nation,
Am I descended from the famous John?
I knew you'd ask that—everybody puts
That question to me, making me sometimes
Fit to blaspheme the poet's memory,
By which I've all my life been handicapped.
"Paradise Lost" I've often wished had been
Lost literally and never more Regained.
John Milton was John Milton, I'm myself:
He had his special talent, I have mine:
'Tis true indeed a family tradition
(I care not for its authenticity)
Asserts we are descended from the poet:
But can you give me any reason why
One family should not produce two poets?
I couldn't write a "Paradise" I'll own,
And if I could I would not: but could John
With all his genius have composed that song,
So full of patriotic inspiration,
Of foreign foes so scornfully defiant,
So trumpet-like in its triumphant measure,
Which the great MacMungo sang with such success
At almost every Music Hall in England,
And which so roused the spirit of the nation,
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