[Mr. JACOB EPSTEIN maintains in _The Daily Mail_ that a man
to be a creative genius must lead an orderly domesticated
life.]
I COURTED the Muse as a stripling,
Immured in a Bloomsbury flat,
And yearned for the kudos of KIPLING
For fees that were frequent and fat;
But editors, far from discerning
The worth of the pearls that I placed
At their feet, had a way of returning
The same with indelicate haste.
But, espousing, a year or two later,
The sweetest and neatest of wives,
I found, after peeling a tater
Or imparting a polish to knives,
I could scribble with frenzy and passion,
That the breaking of coal would inspire,
In a truly remarkable fashion,
My soul with celestial fire.
Serenity reigns in the household;
I've cancelled my grudge against Fate;
My lyrical efforts are now sold
At a simply phenomenal rate;
And, whether I'm laying the lino
Or bathing the babes, I regard
The job as a cushy one: _I_ know
The way to succeed as a bard.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SCALES OF JUSTICE.