GOD makes a poet: touches soul and sight,
And lips and heart, and sends him forth to sing;
His fellows hearing, own the true birthright,
And crown him daily with the love they bring.
The king a lord makes, by a parchment leaf;
Though heart be withered, and though sight be dim
With dullard brain and soul of disbelief-
Ay, even so; he makes a lord of him.
What, then, of one divinely kissed and sent
To fill the people with ideal words,
Who with his poet's crown is discontent,
And begs a parchment title with the lords?
Poet And Lord
John Boyle O'reilly
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Poem topics: god, people, king, brain, bring, true, ideal, daily, heart, love, I love you, soul, crown, poet, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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