POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
Look how the people follow you!
Why don't you hire out as a special writer?
You could become a business man, a rhetorician—
You could become a player—
You can grow rich. There's nothing for a fighter
Fighting as you are but to end in ruin."
But he turned from them on his way, pursuing
The dream he had in view.
He had a rich man or two
Who took up with him against the powerful frown
That looked him down.
For you'll always find a rich man or two
To take up with anything—
There are those who want to get into society, or bring
Their riches to a social recognition
Or ill—formed souls who lack the real patrician
Spirit for life.
But as for him he didn't care, he passed
Where the richness of living was rife;
And like wise Goethe talking to the last
With cab-men rather than with lords,
He sat about the markets and the fountains,
He walked about the country and the mountains,
Took trips upon the lakes and waded fords,
Barefooted; laughing as a young animal
Disports itself amid the festival
Of warm winds, sunshine, summer's carnival—
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