To Samuel Johnson

To show a moral path to ev'ry man,
He pleased, instructed, wrote with skillful hand,
Compiling ev'ry word of English speech
And scribing Parliament beyond men's reach.
Though poor, and sick, and tiring of his life,
He gave all that he could to those in strife.
Of vanity he wrote, man's foolish pride,
Our puffed-up attitudes he chose to chide.
Yet calm and comforting his satire came,
Not one to swiftly wrack us with our shame.
Of Rasselas he wrote, that naive prince
Who sought to know the world and happiness.
The wand'ring lord eventually did see
That we must choose the right eternity.
A Rambler wanting uplift of our minds,
He made us think of how to use our time.
He wrote of poet's lives and of aesthetics,
But of himself he was the harshest critic.
He left our world with humble, sad regret,
Yet clung to life with vigor: no, not yet!
Perhaps of future readers he ne'er thought,
But he'd be glad to know: we're pleased and taught.