INSPIRED BY READING MR. KIPLING'S POEMS AS PRINTED IN THE NEW YORK PAPERS Though earnest and industrious, I still am unillustrious; No papers empty purses Printing verses Such as mine. No lack of fame is chronicker Than that about my monicker; My verse is never cabled At a fabled Rate per line. Still though the Halls Of Literature are closed To me a bard obscure I Have a consolation The Copyreaders crude and rough Can't monkey with my Humble stuff and change MY Punctuation.