ITS roof among the stars projected, The courtyard throbbed with factory roar, The common human hive erected, With hurdy-gurdies at the door. The dark rat scurried in the basement, A shop served brandy, grog, and beer, And to the top-floor's broken casement Man's wretchedness was native here. There by his lamp he sat in fever— Wild scorn of men, speak not at all! And wrote his songs to last forever, A dreamer and a prodigal. Into his garret could be taken Table and bed—just room for breath He was as poor and as forsaken, As once that God from Nazareth. And tho' the world, a venal harlot, Her old taunt: "Crazed and useless!" hissed A radiant spirit girth with scarlet His forehead and his eyes had kissed. And when in lonely awe he wondered The verse beneath his hand to see, Forever more from him were sundered The world in its banality. His only coat was ripped and tattered, Dry bread a neighbor's hand would share, He sighed: O Muse! and nothing mattered, Of want and misery unaware. Thus by his lamp he sat in fever, When day had fled and night would fall, And wrote his songs to last forever, A dreamer and a prodigal. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DAVIS MATLOCK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FRAGMENTARY BLUE by ROBERT FROST A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN FUGUE FOR A DROWNED GIRL by JAMES GALVIN SMALL COUNTRIES by JAMES GALVIN |