Wise Socrates had built a farm,
Little, convenient, snug, and warm,
Secured from rain and wind:
A gallant whispered in his ear,

Shall the great Socrates live here,
To this mean cell confined?
The furniture’s my chiefest care,
Replied the sage; here’s room to spare,

Sweet sir! for I and you;
When this with faithful friends is filled,
An ampler palace I shall build;
Till then this cot must do.

—————

The End

And that’s the End of the Poem

© Poetry Monster, 2021.

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Some external links: The Bat’s Poetry Cave. — Fledermaus’s poetry site. Talking Writing Monster. — the irreverent and irrelevant chatter on subjects both serious and not quite. A free for all board. You can scribble anything on it without registration (but it doesn’t let spammers in). You can even post your poems. Qwant.com. — a search engine from France. It’s an alternative because there are a few alternatives, like Bing, Duckduckgo, and Ecosia. And there is Yandex, the ultimate language-oriented search engine for the Russophone world. Commercial Links: Russian Commerce – the foreign trade assistance agency Other links: Poems and poetry in Russian (if you are reading this in English, as you obviously are, then you’d have to switch the language, the language switch is on the menu. More on languages)