To labor ‘neath a heavy time-worn quill

That other hands have hefted with aplomb;

To timelessly address by wit and will

The vagaries of life in ink intoned;

To press the gods of hope in cursive lines

Or beseech loves, by station out of reach;

To elevate base words in cultured rhyme

That by suggestion, some old rune may teach.

Such is the only wish I ever asked—

That silent words might touch both heart and soul

That minds in shared humanity may bask

And dignity—our universal goal.

To show that human hearts are much the same

And by all common worth, share but one name.