Corregidor

He's a bit off

That one

Writes poetry

Observes the passing throng

Passing judgment

On what's wrong

Pushing virtue

And venture

And all that out-dated stuff

Isn't Wikipedia good enough?

He told a friend

Sleep gets interrupted

By a line

Or a cadence

Or an image

Often talking to himself

At work

The distracted jerk.

Thinks a Heavenly input

Pens the lines

Dances with beat

And rhymes

And Something beyond

Himself

Long assigned to the shelf.

By most of us.

Browning, an old one

Of like art

Wrote of the passing

Of a village bard

Said he watched and mused

At others driven, confused

And passed some lines

To Duke and Court

Hurt, hope or good report

A man thought wise

To philosophize.