Poem by Robert William Service

The Test

Sometimes a bit of rhyme I see 
	In magazine or book 
That makes such fond appeal to me 
	Its flaws I overlook; 
It may be just a simple lay, 
	Yet humanly so pat, 
That when I’ve scanned it twice I say: 
	“I wish I’d written that.”

But when I read some classic ode 
	Of gods and mighty men, 
To finish it I have to goad 
	My patience now and then. 
Although to thrill to it I try, 
	Its organ note goes flat, 
And honestly I cannot sigh: 
	“I wish I’d written that.” 

Some poems lift aloft the mind, 
	Some whisper to the heart; 
Unto the last I’m more inclined, 
	Though innocent of art. 
Some verses get beneath my skin – 
	Like Casey at the Bat, 
Or Jim Bloodso or Gunga Din – 
	Why didn’t I write that? 

These bards have got the edge on me, 
	I’ve missed the lyric bus; 
My rhymes and meters, I agree, 
	Are sadly obvious. 
My balladeering lays I rue, 
	I’m just a copy-cat... 
Goldarn that devil, Dan McGrew – 
	Oh why did I write that? 

1. “Fighting Mac”
2. The March of the Dead
3. The Cremation of Sam Mcgee
4. Music in the Bush
5. The Rhyme of the Remittance Man

Emily Dickinson The Test ("I can wade grief")

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