What is the poem, after it is written? That is the question. Not where it came from or why.
Culture is the study of perfection, and the constant effort to achieve it.
For intellect is a mansion where waste is without drain.
Poets, in their way, are practical men; they are interested in results.
At twelve I was determined to shoot only For honor; at twenty not to shoot at all; I know at thirty-three that one must shoot As often as one gets the rare chance - In killing there is more than commentary.
So the poet, who wants to be something that he cannot be, and is a failure in plain life, makes up fictitious versions of his predicament that are interesting even to other persons because nobody is a perfect automobile salesman.