Part of me, most of me never shall perish; I shall be free from Oblivion's curse; Mine is a name that the future will cherish— I shall be known by my excellent verse.
I shall be famous all over this nation
Centuries after myself shall have died;
People will point to my versification—
I, who was born on the Lower East Side!
Come, then, Melpomene, why not admit me?
I want a wreath that is Delphic and green,
Seven, I think, is the size that will fit me—
Slip me some laurel to wear on my bean.