Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/Socrates

by Florence Earle Coates

For other versions of this work, see Socrates (Coates).

SOCRATES

HE raised the hemlock to his lips,
⁠He drained the fatal draught,
Calmly conversing with his friends,
⁠As he a wine had quaffed;
And, ah! what wine so rich to bless?
⁠The torch of day grown dim,
Death's cup has less of bitterness
⁠For all, because of him!