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To The Poet Laureate

by Thomas William Hodgson Crosland

My dear Poet Laureate, -

Do not, I implore you,

Be perturbed.

It is not my purpose to harp

Upon old strings,

Or to express the smallest satisfaction

Either with you as an official personage

Or with your verses as a production of an official personage;

I have called to-day, as it were,

For a little quiet talk:

You are a fellow-townsman of mine,

Consequently

I am a fellow-townsman of yours;

We ought to get on well together.

Between ourselves, my dear Poet Laureate,

It seems to me

That if you were to set about it

In the right way

You might, with very little trouble

Render a real service to the State

Being as you are

The only writer fellow

Who in his literary capacity

Is associated with the Court,

You have, if I may say so, chances and opportunities

Such as do not appear to have been vouchsafed

To any other contemporary worker in the department of Letters.

Our Gracious Sovereign Lord King Edward VII.

(I make no doubt)

Continually consults you on matters literary

"Dear Mr. Austen" (I can hear him saying),

"Would you now advise me to read

Mr. Newverse's Sonnets

And Miss Jumpabouti's new novel,

Or would you not?"

Of course, my dear Poet Laureate,

If you were one of those stiff ungenerous Poets Laureate

Who make it a rule to stick to business,

You would say very respectfully,

"Your Majesty honours me,

But I am not your Majesty's Book-Taster,

Being, as your Majesty is aware,

Paid only to wangle my harp

In celebration of Births, Deaths, and Marriages.

Therefore I must respectfully, civilly, humbly, and generally otherwisely

Beg to decline to answer your Majesty's kind inquiry."

But my dear Poet Laureate,

There is nothing of that sort about you.

You believe that a Poet Laureate,

Should not only be a sort of walking rhyming dictionary,

But also a general compendium of advice, counsel, and straight tips

For crowned heads.

Hence (I make no doubt)

That when his Majesty the King

Does ask you for a hint as to the kind of book he ought to read

You break the marble box of your wisdom

Upon the palace floor

And expound things to him.

Having thus the ear

Of an exceedingly amiable and capable Monarch,

You should by all means

Take advantage of the circumstance

To do what you can in that quarter

For the benefit of your brethren and sisters of the pen.

Many of them, my dear Poet Laureate,

Are at the present moment

Going about the country

With weary souls and tattered nerves

Because their Services to Literature

Have not been blessed and approved,

Not to say "recognised,"

By the Crown.

Some of them believe in their hearts

That they ought to have a peerage.

Others desire to be Baronets, Knights, and so forth,

In order that their wives may be called "Lady."

Others, whom I know,

Would be well content with a humble K.C.B.

And yet others

Would go off their heads with joy

If they might only be invited regularly

To the King's Levees and Droring Rooms.

My dear Poet Laureate,

I charge you to do your best for these suffering people.

WRITING IS A NOBLE ART,

IT SHOULD MOST CERTAINLY BE RECOGNISED BY THE CROWN.

Rub these facts well in, my dear Poet Laureate

(You know who to rub 'em into);

And while you are about it,

There are two persons

On whose behalf

You might use every legitimate endeavour

To rub your hardest -

One of them, my dear Poet Laureate, is YOURSELF

And the other is

MYSELF.

Your own desires in the way of "recognition"

Are of course your own affair,

Ask for what you like, my dear Poet Laureate,

And see that you get it,

For me

(Let me whisper)

I want a pension.