How many the troubles that wait <br />On mortals!—especially those <br />Who endeavour in eloquent prose <br />To expound their views, and orate. <br /> <br />Did you ever attempt to speak <br />When you hadn't a word to say? <br />Did you find that it wouldn't pay, <br />And subside, feeling dreadfully weak? <br /> <br />Did you ever, when going ahead <br />In a fervid defence of the Stage, <br />Get checked in your noble rage <br />By somehow losing your thread? <br /> <br />Did you ever rise to reply <br />To a toast (say 'The Volunteers'), <br />And evoke loud laughter and cheers, <br />When you didn't exactly know why? <br /> <br />Did you ever wax witty, and when <br />You had smashed an opponent quite small, <br />Did he seem not to mind it at all, <br />But get up and smash you again? <br /> <br />If any or all of these things <br />Have happened to you (as to me), <br />I think you'll be found to agree <br />With yours truly, when sadly he sings: <br /> <br />'How many the troubles that wait <br />On mortals!—especially those <br />Who endeavour in eloquent prose <br />To expound their views, and orate.'<br /><br />Robert Fuller Murray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-orator-s-complaint/
