The poet goes ragged; The merchant wears silk; He eats patties While the poet drinks milk. One cuts coupons, And one splits hope; One hawks sonnets, And one sells soap. They lie long time Under a white spread; I heard them say, "The poet lives"; Of the merchant, "He is dead." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD MEN ADMIRING THEMSELVES IN THE WATER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS INSCRIPTIONS: 3 by MARK AKENSIDE SARGENT'S PORTRAIT OF EDWIN BOOTH AT THE PLAYERS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FLIGHT OF THE WAR-EAGLE by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER TO THE MISS WEBSTERS, WITH DR. AIKIN'S WISH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |