For Michael Gottlieb
All this time me on he leadéd
With false pretence of care
Not for me, too late I learnéd
But what I, for him, might dare
(Which now I do foreswear)
Yet then I do think –
Not this the man I once beholdéd
And calléd friend
What see I now near shell
Of what was he before
Fears and Jealousies so bold
Frightened ’way what parts of him
Promise nearly tolled.
Now a mind of gossip filléd
Where ideas once gently grazed
Betraying youth’s feckless tare
By always wanting to be rare.
