I mimic Milton.  Having read but briefly.
Once again, impressed, I cast about for
Proper topics, Satan's trials more immense
Than any subject I might seize.  Each is
Dull, quotidian, still dross when shaped
By subtle hands, and, mine, I fear, fall
Short of his.  Let dross be praised!
I can't lay claim to more, which means
I ought to set my sights beneath
The blind man's level, more toward
Larkin, even Frost, and reconcile my
Achievements with my place and time.