A Mystery

A Literary Crisis

by Anonymous

There is nothing so hollow as pens,
There is nothing so gloomy as ink,
When a man is obliged to think of something,
And doesn't know what to think.

There is nothing so blank as paper,
There is nothing so void as a brain,
When a man has an hour to think up a thought
And has thought for an hour in vain.

I know how a ghost must feel
As he tries with his fingers of air
To convey a mouthful of good beefsteak
To the mouth that isn't there.

This poem really sums up when I am facing the screen with the word document open and there is nothing. Or perhaps there are words but they are not expressing the thoughts I want to share.

I wonder who this anonymous poet was? Did this poet go on to have a book of poetry published? How did this poem get to be known? Is there a mystery here?