What! imitate me, friend? Suppose that you
With agony and difficulty do
What I do easily-what then? You've got
A style I heartily wish _I_ had not.
If I from lack of sense and you from choice
Grieve the judicious and the unwise rejoice,
No equal censure our deserts will suit
We both are fools, but you're an ape to boot!

More verses by Ambrose Bierce