Magic happens.

The secret is not praise. It's just being accepted
at something like the figure where you put your worth
anywhere on the bloody earth,
especially abroad. We must keep our spirits up
_anyhow_. Of course, praise is nice too,
particularly when it comes to a stop.

When it comes to a stop, so one can think 'Yes, that happened.'
It's not so good while going on: an element of incredulity
enters & dominates.
The shadows of the grey ash on my page,
I can't get out of this either to youth or age,
I'm stuck with middle.

_Such_ hard work demands such international thanks
besides better relations with one's various banks,
slightly better.
So many have forgotten me, I forget some
and there will never come a congregation
to see needing Henry home.

    -- John Berryman, "Dream Song 340"