Plato met old Socrates
who it seemed could talk with ease
with the mediocrities
Athens grew on olive trees;
"Master, please don't take offense,
but your face is ugly, hence
poets in a future tense
might forget your providence!"
"Sonny boy," replied the sage,
"I don't care how you might gauge
future passions for our Age--
give me now your darling page!"
Willing to serve, young Plato thought:
Yes, of course! I'll help a lot:
Master's words, by student wrought,
lasting always, mug or not!
Thus it was that with his page,
Plato gave us Socrates;
poets dwelt forever hence
on the past, The Golden Age;
and the mediocrities
misconstrued their providence.
