HE whose advent'rous keel ploughs the rough seas, Takes interest of fate for wealth's increase. He that in battle traffics, and pitch'd fields, Reaps with his sword rich harvests, which war yields. Base parasites repose their drunken heads, Laden with sleep and wine, on Tyrian beds; And he that melts in Lust's adult'rous fire, Gets both reward and pleasure for his hire. But Learning only, midst this wanton heat, Hath (save itself) nothing to wear or eat; Faintly exclaiming on the looser Times, That value Wit and Arts below their crimes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAGNETIC MOUNTAIN: 32 by CECIL DAY LEWIS FOR THE BAPTIST by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN WAITING - BOTH by THOMAS HARDY THE LILY IN CRYSTAL by ROBERT HERRICK SONNET: DEATH-WARNINGS by FRANCISCO GOMEZ DE QUEVEDO Y VILLEGAS THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 74. ST. LUKE THE PAINTER (OLD & NEW ART) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |