MONEY, thou bane of blisse, and source of woe, Whence com'st thou, that thou art so fresh and fine? I know thy parentage is base and low: Man found thee poore and dirtie in a mine. Surely thou didst so little contribute To this great kingdome, which thou now hast got, That he was fain, when thou wert destitute, To digge thee out of thy dark cave and grot. Then, forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright: Nay, thou hast got the face of man; for we Have with our stamp and seal transferred our right; Thou art the man, and man but drosse to thee. Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich; And, while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 4. DIFFERENCE OF OPINION WITH LYGDAMUS by EZRA POUND NIGHT PIECE (2) by EDITH SITWELL THE NIGHT MAIL NORTH (EUSTON SQUARE, 1840) by HENRY CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL WHO WALKS WITH BEAUTY by DAVID MORTON SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 45 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |