Myself

I have to be myself, that’s all,

     No matter where I chance to be

Or what I’ll do. I may be wrong,

     And do things which are bad for me,

But always, ever on my way,

     Let come what may, whate’er befall,

I cannot do as others do,

     I have to be myself, that’s all.

I cannot be what I would be,

     I would be great, I cherish fame;

I’d be a master at my art,

     I’d have the world thrill at my name.

But no, ‘tis not for me; I plug

     And fall and rise, and rise and fall;

I cannot be that someone else,

     I have to be myself, that’s all.

And on, and on; the patient years

     Have left me where I am – ‘tis well,

I’ll be myself unto the end,

     And maybe raise me, who can tell.

I’ve wasted years, (I’ll waste no more)

     In listening to another’s call;

It is not well – mine ears are closed;

     I want to be myself, that’s all.

Dec. 14, 1913

(flip side)