THERE lived a man who raised his hand and said, "I will be great!" And through a long, long life he bravely knocked At Fame's closed gate. A son he left who, like his sire, strove High place to win;— Worn out, he died and, dying, left no trace That he had been. He also left a son, who, without care Or planning how, Bore the fair letters of a deathless fame Upon his brow. "Behold a genius, filled with fire divine!" The people cried; Not knowing that to make him what he was Two men had died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DAVIS MATLOCK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON LADY POLTAGRUE: A PUBLIC PERIL by HILAIRE BELLOC THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE CHILD by HAYDEN CARRUTH PROVING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JUDGE SELAH LIVELY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |