Vignettes Poem by John Boyle O'Reilly

“AND Smith has made money?'
'O, no; that's a myth:
Smith never made money
But money made Smith!'

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A sculptor is Deming—a great man, too;
But the chisel of fancy the hand outstrips;
While he talks of the wonder he's going to do
All the work of his fingers leaks out at his lips!

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'A scholar, sir! To Brown six tongues are known!'
(The Blockhead! never spoke one thought his own!)

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Johnson jingled his silver—though he never had much to purloin;
But Jackson jingled his intellect—O, give us Johnson's coin!

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At school a blockhead—sullen, wordless, dull;
His size well known to even his smallest mate;
Grown up, men say: ' How silent! He is full
Of will and wisdom! ' Truly mud is great!

An honest man! Jones never broke the law.
The wretch behind the bars he scorned with pride.
But these same bars on every side he saw:
Jones lived in prison—on the other side.

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A hideous fungus in the wine-vault grows,
Liver-like, loathsome, shaking on its stalk:
Above the wine-vault, too (to him who knows),
The cursed mushroom lives and walks and talks.