poem #15
Some thieves have burgled every house;
The rich are sorrowing
At sacrilege and heirlooms lost,
Spoons, silks and sapphire rings.
The poorer tenants mourn as well;
Their losses are their doom.
Without the coin for food or rent,
Hunger and eviction loom.
Just down the street, a misanthrope
Who lives in an old tub
Cackles at their lamentations,
And gives his hands a rub.
He used to own a battered cup,
That and a bowl for alms,
But then he saw an urchin drink
Right out of his cupped palms.
He learned that cups were luxury,
And threw the thing away.
He’s happier in poverty,
And that’s just how he’ll stay.
He boasts to passers-by he’s safe,
Since thieves can never steal
Knowledge or virtue from the good.
Wisdom alone is real.
How better for that mendicant
If thieves could somehow take
Self-satisfaction from such prigs.
Oh mellow him for pity’s sake.
About this poem
If I recall correctly, Diogenes Laertes told this story about Diogenes the Cynic, minus the moral. Too many Diogenes’s!
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Submitted by DavidPlantinga on June 24, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 45 sec read
- 7 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABCX XDXD XEAE XXBX FGFG XHXH CBAB |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 866 |
Words | 152 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
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"poem #15" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/103510/poem-#15>.
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