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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=381382" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Shadrach O'Leary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=381382" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O’Leary was a poet—for a while: <br>He sang of many ladies frail and fair, <br>The rolling glory of their golden hair, <br>And emperors extinguished with a smile. <br>They foiled his years with many an ancient wile,<br>And if they limped, O’Leary didn’t care: <br>He turned them loose and had them everywhere, <br>Undoing saints and senates with their guile. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=381382" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But this was not the end. A year ago <br>I met him—and to meet was to admire:<br>Forgotten were the ladies and the lyre, <br>And the small, ink-fed Eros of his dream. <br>By questioning I found a man to know— <br>A failure spared, a Shadrach of the Gleam.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edwin+Arlington+Robinson">Edwin Arlington Robinson</a></strong></div>

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