If I had time, and all the proper tools,
I’d shape myself a crown of stolen gold,
And light all England, with my living doled
For free – and gladly so – by servile fools,
Bedazzled by my band of borrowed jewels.
I’d hoard the nation’s wealth and love, as bold
As brass, and smile a smile that might seem cold,
Until I’m thanking those who made these rules.
Well, luckily for you, I lack the will
And metal scorn to be a king of men;
What little wealth I have is earned by skill –
My supper paid for by the verse I pen.
Composed of insubstantial words and air
Is this, the only crown I’ll ever wear.