Farewell To Modern Poets

Farewell To Modern Poets

Spent my muse: half but a dreg,
Bankrupt it goes, soon to lend:
Perhaps, suppliers will lend.

Head aches, wit remonstrates,
Hand grunts; seeks to escape
But heart still imitate.

Said we have a talk:
We, all ancient poets:
Shakespeare (damn him!) Calls.
                                           Josh Berry
   18:08:07:11:23