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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


TO ONE WHO HAD SCOFFED AT THE POET'S POVERTY by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS

First Line: YES, I AM POOR, CALLISTRATUS! I OWN
Last Line: A HUNDRED OF THE CROWD RESEMBLE THEE!
Subject(s): POETRY & POETS; THOUGHT; THINKING;

YES, -- I am poor, Callistratus! I own;
And so was ever; yet not quite unknown,
Graced with a knight's degree; nor this alone:
But through the world my verse is often sung;
And "That is he!" sounds buzzed from every tongue;
And what to few, when dust, the Fates assign,
In bloom and freshness of my days is mine.
Thy ceilings on a hundred columns rest;
Wealth as of upstart freedman bursts thy chest;
Nile flows in fatness o'er thy ample fields;
Cisalpine Gaul thy silky fleeces yields.
Lo! Such thou art, and such am I: like me,
Callistratus! thou canst not hope to be;
A hundred of the crowd resemble thee!



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