INSPIRED BY READING MR. KIPLING'S POEMS AS
PRINTED IN THE NEW YORK PAPERS

Though earnest and industrious, 
I still am unillustrious; 
No papers empty purses 
Printing verses 
Such as mine.

No lack of fame is chronicker 
Than that about my monicker; 
My verse is never cabled 
At a fabled 
Rate per line.

Still though the Halls 
Of Literature are closed 
To me a bard obscure I 
Have a consolation The 
Copyreaders crude and rough 
Can't monkey with my 
Humble stuff and change MY 
Punctuation.