Shakespeare and I

I was floating in ethereal sphere
When I met my Shakespeare dear,
He saw my downcast aspect
And said with all respect;

"What ails thee, my dear?
Thy countenance showeth deep fear,
Unburden thy heart to me
That I may succour thee",

"I'm hurt by unfair criticism,
They don't appreciate my witticism, 
Poisonous darts they let fly,
And make me in anguish sigh;"

Said he, after a hearty laugh,
"You're surely not far off,
It's true, criticism is not new,
In our times too, we had had a few;

They bowdlerized my work,
And said there did lurk
Some unseemly words and text
Which did not suit the context;

Sensitive readers they did offend,
That I shouldn't my work defend,
But acquiesce in critics quill
Without display of my defiant will;

Byron, Pope, Dryden et all had their share
Of criticism which was unfair,
They fought back hard,
Every inch or yard;

Critics are an undying tribe,
Ready to find fault with every scribe,
Let them have their way
And let's walk our own way",

Emboldened I repaired to the earth
Having regained my mirth;
While I've Shakespeare on my side,
I'll continue to write with pride.

Raghav R
10.07.2020
© Raghav R