Treasure Island

George Pope Morris

(1802-1864 / USA)

The Millionaire.

In the upper circles
Moves a famous man
Who has had no equal
Since the world began.
He was once a broker
Down by the exchange;
He is now a nabob--
Don't you think it strange?

In his low back office,
Near the Bowling Green,
With his brother brokers
He was often seen;--
Shaving and discounting,
Dabbling in the stocks,
He achieved a fortune
Of a million ROCKS!'

Next he formed a marriage
With a lady fair,
And his splendid carriage
Bowled about THE square,
Where his spacious mansion
Like a palace stood,
Envied and admired
By the multitude.

Then he took the tour
Of the continent,
Bearer of dispatches
From the President:
A legation button
By permission wore,
And became that worthy,
An official bore.

Charmed with foreign countries,
Lots of coin to spend,
He a house in London
Took a the West End,
Where he dwelt a season,
And in grandeur shone,
But to all the beau monde
Utterly unknown.

England then was 'foggy,
And society
Too aristocratic'
For his--pedigree:
So he crossed the channel
To escape the BLUES,
And became the idol
Of the parvenues.

'Dear, delightful Paris!'
He would often say:
'Every earthly pleasure
One can have for--pay.
Wealth gives high position;
But when money's tight,
Man is at a discount,
And it serves him right.'

After years of study
How to cut a dash,
He came home embellished
With a huge--moustache!
Now he is a lion,
All the rage up town,
And gives gorgeous parties
Supervised by--Brown!

The almighty dollar
Is, no doubt, divine,
And he worships daily
At that noble shrine;
Fashion is his idol,
Money is his god,
And they both together
Rule him like a rod.

Books, and busts, and pictures,
Are with him a card--
While abroad he bought them
Cheaply--by the yard!
But his sumptuous dinners,
To a turn quite right,
With his boon companions,
Are his chief delight.

Thee his wit and wassail,
Like twin-currents flow
In his newest stories,
Published--long ago.
His enchanted hearers
Giggle till they weep,
As it is their duty
Till they--fall asleep.

* * * *

On his carriage panel
Is a blazoned crest,
With a Latin motto
Given him--in jest.
His black coach and footman,
Dressed in livery,
Every day at Stewart's
Many crowd to see.

* * * *

Well--in upper-ten-dom
Let him rest in peace,
And may his investments
Cent, per cent, increase:
Though on earth for no one
Cares the millionaire,
So does NOT exactly
His devoted--heir!

* * * *

There's a useful moral
Woven with my rhyme,
Which may be considered
At--some other time:
Crockery is not porcelain--
It is merely delf--
And the kind most common
Is the man himself.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Millionaire. by George Pope Morris )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley Updates

New Poems

  2. Pen And Paper, ali chukwuemeka
  3. Decoy, Aftab Alam
  4. My plaints, Hrishikesh Bharadwaj
  5. The Blind's thought, Hrishikesh Bharadwaj
  6. Like a snake, Eleonora Bistrianu
  7. Infractions Rained Down Tears, mary douglas
  8. Time. Us. Stay., Eleonora Bistrianu
  9. Scuttled away, Eleonora Bistrianu
  10. Exist. Exist. Exist., Eleonora Bistrianu

Poem of the Day

poet George Gordon Byron

So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
...... Read complete »


Modern Poem


Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]