This poem is taken from PN Review 170, Volume 32 Number 6, July - August 2006.
Tibullus: Book OneI
Let someone else enrich himself
amassing military pelf
in golden yellow piles,
or planted miles.
His penalty is constant sweat,
the helmet and the bayonet,
the bugle's fearful warning,
midnight for morning.
For me, I trust my little means
will lend a life of idle scenes,
while home fires make my path
and constant hearth.
Myself will plant the tender vines
when ripened season offers signs,
and apple stems demand
a country hand.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
