I think that I shall never see, 'tis true,
A Man so curious or strange as I.
Not in the mighty ocean, white and blue,
Not on the land, nor in the empty sky.
'Tis not conceit nor arrogance of class
Which causes me to turn my head toward
The image of myself in truthful glass.
I am a Man: of Thought, and Deed, and Word.
Is that not cause enough to move my pen?
To put down verse of self and mind and soul?
A noble creature I, yes, I, a Man,
Creation stirs and poets speak it all.
This is not gall, not pride within my tone.
The praise is His, yes, for my God alone.