Open main menu

Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/Socrates

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


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!