(From a letter to Thomas Butts, August 1803)
Oh why was I born with a different face?
Oh why was I born with a different face?
Why was I not born like this envious race?
If I look, each one starts: if I speak I offend;
Then I 'm silent and passive and lose every friend.
Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise,
My person degrade, and my temper chastise;
And the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame;
All my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.
I am either too low, or too highly prized.
When elate I 'm envied; when meek I 'm despised.
If I look, each one starts: if I speak I offend;
Then I 'm silent and passive and lose every friend.
Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise,
My person degrade, and my temper chastise;
And the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame;
All my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.
I am either too low, or too highly prized.
When elate I 'm envied; when meek I 'm despised.