 | New poems by Madison Cawein |  |
THE FOOL
Here is a tale for children and their grannies:There was a fool, a man who'd had his chances
But missed them, somehow; lost them, just for fancies,
Tag-ends of things with which he'd crammed the crannies
Of his cracked head, as panes are crammed with paper:
Fragments of song and bits of worthless writing,
Which he was never weary of reciting,
Fluttered his mind as night a windy taper.
A witless fool! who lived in some fair Venice
Of his own building where he dreamed of Beauty:
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This would not do. Men said he was a menace
To all mankind; and, as it was their duty,
Clapped him in prison where he died—as proper.
| New poems by Madison Cawein | |