One day as on an ass I rode, <br />By many a twisting gully, <br />To where once stood the famed abode <br />Of philosophic Tully, <br /> <br />A shepherd lad with hat aslouch <br />Was singing to his flock O; <br />I pulled my money from my pouch, <br />And chucked him a baiocco. <br /> <br />A moment gone, and with his psalm <br />The hills and woods were ringing; <br />But when the copper touched his palm, <br />Sudden he ceased his singing. <br /> <br />Ah! like to bees that cease to hum, <br />When pressing on for honey, <br />So doth the singing soul grow dumb, <br />Intent on clogging money. <br /> <br />Kind Heaven! forbid that ever I <br />Should sink in golden torpor! <br />If, living, I may sing, I'll die <br />Contentedly a pauper.<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-tusculan-question/
