Classic Poem

Crush'd down by time's all-withering power,
Sophronious saw the approaching hour;
Yet, e're death gave his dread command,
He call'd his sons—around they stand.

My children hear what I advise,
A treasure in the vineyard lies;
Deep in the earth from mortal view,
A fortune that's preserv'd for you.

Here sunk the sage; the youthful race
Now ponder'd where cou'd be the place.
But with no certainty possest,
To dig it all they thought war best.

Now with the lark their work began,
And ended with the setting sun;
Day after day their toil they held,
Day after day their hopes beguil'd.

Their work was done, the vineyard round
They dug; no treasure there was found;
Baulk'd in their hopes, with labour spent,
They wonder'd what their father meant.

At length behold the circling year
The sage's meaning made appear;
The vines, by far, more fruitful grew,
More fine the grapes appear'd in view.

When one, much wiser than the other,
Accosted thus, his sighing brother:
The mystery is at length reveal'd,
The treasure is no more conceal'd.

Behold, the loaded branches; see,
That is our father's legacy;
The digging was to cultivate,
And nourish their declining state.

Give to their sap a new recruit,
The treasure is their bearing fruit.
From this, I think, I may be able
To give a moral to the fable.

Whate're the station sent by fate,
Observe it well to cultivate;
Your store with certainty you'll measure,
For industry will bring a treasure.