A. A. Milne-Always Time For A Rhyme

Born in 1892:
(Small, of course, but slowly grew)
Educated, so to say,
In the customary way-
School and college: at the latter
Wrote as madly as a hatter,
Wrote, and used to wonder "Can't a
Man who runs the Cambridge Granta
Satisfy for life his creditors
By cajoling London editors?"

So to London, and collected
Diverse forms for the rejected;
L20 the year's reward,
Not enough for bed and board.
Two more years went lightly by
Editors still rather shy.
Punch, however, kept its head,
Made me its Assistant Ed.
There I stayed until the War ...
(Married Her the year before).

Training in the Isle of Wight
Had a little time to Write;
Wrote a play which got a laugh
From my so much better half
(Reason One: Why Men Should Marry):
Sent the play to J. M. Barrie.
Barrie was approving, so
On it went to Boucicault;
And in the ensuing summer he
Staged it (title: Wurzel Flummery):
Which, because it wasn't hissed
Changed me to a dramatist ...

Found, and no one more surprised,
War could end. Demobilized.
Peaceful days succeeded days
Mostly spent creating plays.
Wife's supreme creation, son,
Took the stage in '21.
(That's poetic license, I'm
Hampered by the need for rhyme,
And by "2 1 " I meant he First
appeared in 1920.)
If a writer, why not write
On whatever comes in sight?
So-the Children's Books, a short
Intermezzo of a sort:

When I wrote them, little thinking
All my years of pen-and-inking
Would be almost lost among
Those four trifles for the young.

Though a writer must confess his
Works aren't all of them successes,
Though his sermons fail to please,
Though his humour on one sees,
Yet he cannot help delighting
In the pleasure of the writing.
In a farmhouse old by centuries
This so happy an adventure is
Coming (so I must suppose,
Now I'm 70) to a close.
Take it all, Year In, Year Out,
I've enjoyed it, not a doubt.