The Dilettante: A Modern Type
He scribbles some in prose and verse,And now and then he prints it;He paints a little,—gathers someOf Nature’s gold and mints it.
He plays a little, sings a song,Acts tragic roles, or funny;He does, because his love is strong,But not, oh, not for money!
He studies almost everythingFrom social art to science;A thirsty mind, a flowing spring,Demand and swift compliance.
He looms above the sordid crowd—At least through friendly lenses;While his mamma looks pleased and proud,And kindly pays expenses.