Eliot wrote poems
That I'll never beat;
He saw more deeply,
Looked more lovingly,
Cared more intelligently,
Listened with an attentiveness
Not found today on our lonely streets.
Still, I'd like to find a way to somehow compete.
Perhaps invent a genre at which all will gasp.
Or show talent that is above reproach.
Nevertheless, imitation ain't so bad.
In that sun-drenched heaven,
I hope this faint effort
makes him glad.