Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the line of
Every time I my pen
Upon the page and form the
I felt but couldn't 'til then
And to myself I beg the
Why do I thus
As one to one and to
else? If I, afraid
Of the consequence of stating
Openly my might be,
When I and rhyme and reason
Do I write for or me?
I believe there is some
In creating for one's
But why before the public
What is left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not feel
What I pen is alone,
this could be misguided
As are many I known
Who swore, poor souls, they possessed
The key to mysterious fate,
Succeeded in some,
But most tell they did but prate
On subjects touching vague
Which be unproven, or,
In place of content, in tongues
Yet know not whom they're for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
force divine, but still I know
That I shall never be
To my tongue when I would speak
Or my words to suit the hour
Or a blush upon my cheek
To feign my joy at gone sour.
I do not to disappoint
The that others place in me
To the way to brighter days,
But dark is all I see.
I for good, I toil for hope,
No one can my intent
But those who listen close
Can mistake what I meant.
My fear, I've to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
That my is askew,
I write shyte and call it song.
Perhaps I'll question thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'Tis well, as I still go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
is she who knows her mind
And it though she may not please.
Fortunate the
That hears such thoughts as these.