So that's who I remind me of

When I consider men of golden talents,
I'm delighted, in my introverted way,
to discover, as I'm drawing up the balance,
how much we have in common, I and they.

Like Burns, I have a weakness for the botttle,
Like Shakespeare, little latin and less Greek;
I bite my fingernails like Aristotle;
Like Thackeray, I have a snobbish streak.

I'm afflicted with the vanity of Byron,
I've inherited the spitefulness of Pope;
Like Petrach, I'm a sucker for siren,
Like Milton, I've a tendency to mope.

My spelling is suggestive of a Chaucer;
Like Johnson, well, I do not wish to die
(I also drink my coffee from the saucer);
and if Goldsmith was a parrot, so am I.

Like Villon, I have debits by the carload,
Like swinburne, I'm afraid I need a nurse;
By my dicing is Christopher out-Marlowed,
And I dream as mush as Coleridge, only worse.

In comparison with men of golden talents,
I am all a man of talent ought to be;
I resemble every genius in his vice, however heinous-
Yet I write so much like me.

~ Ogden Nash