The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be, <br />And from his dream forthright a picture grew, <br />A painting all the people thronged to see, <br />And joyed therein -- till came the Man Who Knew, <br />Saying: "'Tis bad! Why do ye gape, ye fools! <br />He painteth not according to the schools." <br /> <br />The Dreamer probed Life's mystery of woe, <br />And in a book he sought to give the clue; <br />The people read, and saw that it was so, <br />And read again -- then came the Man Who Knew, <br />Saying: "Ye witless ones! this book is vile: <br />It hath not got the rudiments of style." <br /> <br />Love smote the Dreamer's lips, and silver clear <br />He sang a song so sweet, so tender true, <br />That all the market-place was thrilled to hear, <br />And listened rapt -- till came the Man Who Knew, <br />Saying: "His technique's wrong; he singeth ill. <br />Waste not your time." The singer's voice was still. <br /> <br />And then the people roused as if from sleep, <br />Crying: "What care we if it be not Art! <br />Hath he not charmed us, made us laugh and weep? <br />Come, let us crown him where he sits apart." <br />Then, with his picture spurned, his book unread, <br />His song unsung, they found their Dreamer -- dead.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-man-who-knew/
