Quote by Robert William Service, My Cross

I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it;Although I hoped that late or soonSomeone would praise a bitIts purity and grace forlone,Its beauty tulip-cool...But as my poem died still-born,I felt a fool.I wrote a verse of vulgar trendSpiced with an oath or two;I tacked a snapper at the endAnd called it Dan McGrew.I spouted it to bar-room boys,Full fifty years away;Yet still with rude and ribald noiseIt lives today.'Tis bitter truth, but there you are-That's how a name is made;Write of a rose, a lark, a star,You'll never make the grade.But write of gutter and of grime,Of pimp and prostitute,The multitude will read your rhyme,And pay to boot.So what's the use to burn and bleedAnd strive for beauty's sake?No one your poetry will read,Your heart will only break.But set your song in vulgar pitch,If rhyme you will not rue,And make your heroine a bitch...Like Lady Lou.

Summary

This quote highlights the dilemma faced by artists and writers - the struggle between creating pure and beautiful art that often goes unnoticed and creating attention-grabbing, controversial works that gain popularity. It suggests that society is more inclined towards consuming crude and sensational content rather than appreciating the aesthetics and depth of art. The quote reflects the frustrations of the artist who is torn between staying true to their artistic vision or compromising it for mass appeal and recognition. Ultimately, it implies that in a world driven by instant gratification, achieving success as an artist often comes at the cost of artistic integrity.