THE man whose method hangeth by the moon, And rules his diet by geometry; Whose restless mind rips up his mother's breast, To part her bowels for his family; And fetcheth Pluto's glee in from the grass By careless cutting of a goddess' gifts; That throws his gotten labour to the earth, As trusting to content for others' shifts; 'Tis he, good sir, that Saturn best did please When golden world set worldlings all at ease; His name is Person, and his progeny, Now tell me, of what ancient pedigree? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES; SUGGESTED BY GRAVES TWO ENGLISH SOLDIERS ON CONCORD by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THERMOPYLAE by SIMONIDES OF CEOS THE VANISHERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ON THE PICTURE OF LUCRETIA STABBING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES THE APPLE-JELLY FISH-TREE by HILDA CONKLING AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF MRS. ANNE WHITFIELD by ABRAHAM COWLEY |