Xenocrates

Xenocrates engaged our souls to our minds,
And wed the two to make our bodies affined.
Without his wily sophisticated ways,
The wish to know and count our days
Might be nothing more or less
Than a case of imaginary distress.

Though only three when Socrates did drink
Of the Hemlock’s vilest deathly ink,
We still admire him for his analytical word,
Which moved and chastened the ancients to spur
Humanity’s race for knowledge with urgent haste.
Yet to this day, the race has been an insurgent waste.