So oft have I invoked for all my muse,
To spread my knowledge of the dealer’s art;
My pen, worn dry from rampant overuse,
Rewetted by the pourings of my heart.
And recognition follows, verily,
As storms that follow elemental peace.
Self-pride, in skill extraordinarily
Beyond the normal writer’s, doth increase.
Yet let me note a fascinating trend:
That frauds in journalism may attest
To errors typed that might my claims upend,
And prove my writing well below the best.
     Let this be known, ye burners of false flame:
     Mistakes and emphases may be the same!