Poverty Poem by Alcaeus of Mytilene
Poverty
The worst of ills, and hardest to endure,
Past hope, past cure,
Is Penury, who, with her sister-mate
Disorder, soon brings down the loftiest state,
And makes it desolate.
This truth the sage of Sparta told,
Aristodemus old,--
'Wealth makes the man.' On him that's poor,
Proud worth looks down, and honor shuts the door.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: sister
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8/26/2026 4:11:27 PM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
