O'LEARY was a poet--for a while: He sang of many ladies frail and fair, The rolling glory of their golden hair, And emperors extinguished with a smile. They foiled his years with many an ancient wile, And if they limped, O'Leary didn't care: He turned them loose and had them everywhere, Undoing saints and senates with their guile. But this was not the end. A year ago I met him--and to meet was to admire: Forgotten were the ladies and the lyre, And the small, ink-fed Eros of his dream. By questioning I found a man to know-- A failure spared, a Shadrach of the Gleam. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING ON BROADWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER APPRECIATION by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE PILGRIM [SONG], FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN DUNS SCOTUS'S OXFORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS WINTER HEAVENS by GEORGE MEREDITH THE CAT OF CATS by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS THE DYING SOLDIER by ISAAC ROSENBERG |