<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408927" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Song of the Waste-Paper Basket</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O BARD of fortune, you deem me nought<br>But a mark for your careless scorn.<br>For I am the echo-less grave of thought<br>That is strangled before it’s born.<br>You think perchance that I am a doom<br>Which only a dunce should dread—<br>Nor dream I’ve been the dishonoured tomb<br>Of the noblest and brightest dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The brightest fancies that e’er can fly<br>From the labouring minds of men<br>Are often written in lines awry,<br>And marred by a blundering pen;<br>And thus it comes that I gain a part<br>Of what to the world is loss—<br>Of genius lost for the want of art,<br>Of pearls that are set in dross.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And though I am of a lowly birth<br>My fame has been cheaply bought,<br>A power am I, for I rob the earth<br>Of the brightest gems of thought;<br>The Press gains much of my lawful share,<br>I am wronged without redress—<br>But I have revenge, for I think it fair<br>That I should plunder the Press.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You’d pause in wonder to read behind<br>The lines of some songs I see;<br>The soul of the singer I often find<br>In songs that are thrown to me.<br>But the song of the singer I bury deep<br>With the scrawl of the dunce and clown,<br>And both from the eyes of the world I keep,<br>And the hopes of both I drown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408927" data-title="The Song of the Waste-Paper Basket de Henry Lawson" data-description="O BARD of fortune, you deem me nought But a mark for your careless scorn. For I am the echo-less grave of thought That is strangled before it’s born. You think perchance that I am a doom Which only a dunce should dread— Nor dream I’ve been t..."></div> </div> </div>

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