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Poet should not reason:
Let them sing!
Argument is treason—
Bells should ring.
Statements none, nor questions;
Gnomic words.
Spirit-cries, suggestions,
Like the birds.
He may use deduction
Who must preach;
He may praise instruction
Who must teach.
But the poet duly
Fills his part
When the song bursts truly
From his heart.
For no purpose springing;
For no pelf:
He must do the singing
For itself.
Not in lines austerely
Let him build;
Not the surface merely
Let him gild.
Fearless, uninvited,
Like a spring.
Opal-words, inlighted,
Let him sing.
As the leaf grows sunward
Song must grow;
As the stream flows onward
Song must flow.
Useless? Ay,—for measure;
Roses die,
But their breath gives pleasure—
God knows why!
John Boyle O'Reilly’s The Useless Ones is a lyrical manifesto on the nature of poetry and the poet’s role in society. Written in the late 19th century, the poem resists the utilitarian ethos of the Industrial Age, asserting instead that poetry’s value lies in its intrinsic beauty rather than its measurable function. O'Reilly, an Irish nationalist, journalist, and poet, was deeply influenced by Romanticism’s reverence for emotion and nature, as well as by the political struggles of his time. His poem is both a declaration of artistic independence and a subtle critique of a world increasingly obsessed with productivity and reason.
Through its musical cadence and vivid imagery, The Useless Ones argues that poetry, like birdsong or the blossoming of a rose, needs no justification beyond its own existence. This essay will explore the poem’s historical context, its thematic preoccupations, its use of literary devices, and its emotional resonance, demonstrating how O'Reilly crafts a defense of the aesthetic against the encroachments of pragmatism.
John Boyle O'Reilly (1844–1890) was an Irish exile who became a prominent voice in American literature and activism. Transported to Australia as a political prisoner for his involvement in the Irish Republican Brotherhood, he later escaped to the United States, where he became an influential editor and writer. His experiences of oppression and displacement likely shaped his belief in art as a transcendent force, unbound by political or economic constraints.
The late 19th century was a period of rapid industrialization, scientific rationalism, and growing skepticism toward Romantic ideals. Poetry, once a dominant literary form, was increasingly seen as anachronistic in an age of machinery and empirical inquiry. O'Reilly’s poem can be read as a response to this cultural shift—a reassertion of poetry’s necessity precisely because it defies utilitarian logic.
The central theme of The Useless Ones is the idea that poetry exists beyond reason, instruction, or material gain. O'Reilly aligns himself with the l'art pour l'art (art for art’s sake) movement, which gained traction in the 19th century through figures like Théophile Gautier and Oscar Wilde. The poem’s opening lines—"Poet should not reason: / Let them sing!"—immediately reject didacticism, suggesting that argumentative or instructive verse betrays poetry’s true purpose.
The poet’s role, O'Reilly insists, is not to preach or teach but to express the spontaneous overflow of emotion, much like Wordsworth’s definition of poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." The lines—"He must do the singing / For itself."—echo Keats’ belief in "negative capability," the idea that the poet should embrace beauty and mystery without the "irritable reaching after fact and reason."
O'Reilly further emphasizes this theme through natural imagery. Poetry is compared to birdsong ("Like the birds"), a spring ("Like a spring"), and a growing leaf ("As the leaf grows sunward"). These metaphors reinforce the idea that poetry is an organic, instinctive phenomenon, not a manufactured commodity. The final stanza—"Roses die, / But their breath gives pleasure— / God knows why!"—underscores the paradox of beauty: it is ephemeral and "useless," yet indispensable to the human spirit.
O'Reilly’s poem is rich in sonic and visual techniques that enhance its argument. The short, rhythmic lines mimic the spontaneity of song, reinforcing the idea that poetry should flow naturally rather than conform to rigid structures. The repetition of imperative verbs ("Let them sing!", "Let him sing!") creates an incantatory effect, as if the poem itself is enacting the very act of singing it describes.
The imagery is drawn almost entirely from nature, aligning poetry with organic growth rather than human artifice. The "opal-words, inlighted" suggest iridescence, a play of light that cannot be pinned down—much like the elusive power of poetry. The comparison of song to a stream ("As the stream flows onward / Song must flow.") evokes Heraclitus’ notion that one cannot step into the same river twice; poetry, too, must be ever-changing, ever-renewing.
Perhaps the most striking device is O'Reilly’s use of paradox. The title itself—The Useless Ones—immediately sets up a tension between utility and beauty. The poem does not deny that poetry is "useless" in a practical sense; rather, it embraces this uselessness as a form of resistance against a world that demands functionality from everything. The final line—"God knows why!"—is both humble and defiant, acknowledging that the value of art transcends human comprehension.
O'Reilly’s poem resonates with several literary traditions. Its Romantic influences are clear—Wordsworth’s "spontaneous overflow", Keats’ "Ode to a Nightingale" (with its celebration of the bird’s carefree song), and Shelley’s "A Defence of Poetry", which argues that poets are the "unacknowledged legislators of the world." Like the Romantics, O'Reilly sees poetry as a force that connects humanity to something greater than material existence.
At the same time, the poem anticipates the Aestheticism of the late 19th century, particularly Walter Pater’s insistence on art’s primary purpose being the cultivation of intense experience. The line "For no pelf" (meaning "for no money") rejects commercialism, much like Oscar Wilde’s later assertion in The Picture of Dorian Gray that "all art is quite useless."
What makes The Useless Ones so compelling is its joyful defiance. It does not lament poetry’s marginalization but instead celebrates its freedom from societal demands. The poem’s tone is not bitter but exuberant, as if O'Reilly takes pleasure in declaring that poetry owes nothing to logic, morality, or commerce.
This emotional core is what allows the poem to endure. In an age where art is often judged by its marketability or social utility, O'Reilly’s words remind us that some things—like the scent of a rose or the sound of a bird—are valuable precisely because they cannot be quantified. The final exclamation—"God knows why!"—is both a surrender to mystery and a triumphant affirmation that beauty needs no justification.
The Useless Ones is more than a defense of poetry; it is a celebration of all that cannot be measured, bought, or fully understood. O'Reilly’s insistence that the poet must sing "for itself" challenges the transactional mindset of modernity, offering instead a vision of art as a vital, life-affirming force.
In a world increasingly driven by data and efficiency, O'Reilly’s poem remains a necessary counterpoint. It asks us to consider what is lost when we dismiss the "useless"—the songs, the flowers, the moments of inexplicable joy—as trivial. Like the rose whose breath gives pleasure without reason, poetry, too, has its own kind of necessity, one that transcends the narrow calculus of utility. And in that transcendence, perhaps, lies its greatest power.
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