THE TWO POEMS

Many centuries ago, on the road of Athens, two poets
met, and they were glad to see one another.
And one poet asked another saying, "what have you
composed of late, and how goes it with your lyre?"
   And the other poet answered and said with pride,
"I have but now finished the greatest of my poems,
perchance the greatest poem yet written in Greek. It
is invocation to Zeus the Supreme."
    Then he took from beneath his cloak a parchment,
sating, "Here, behold, I have it with me, and I would fain
read it to you. Come, let us set in the shade of that white
cypress."
     And the pot read his poem. And it was long poem.
     And the other poet said in kindness, "This is a great
poem. It will live through the ages, and in it you shall
be glorified.
    And the first poet said calmly, "And what have you
been writing these late days?"
      And the other answered, "I have written but little.
Only eight lines in remembrance of a child playing in
garden." And he recited the lines.
       The first poet said, "Not so bad; not so bad."
        And they parted.
        And now after two thousand years the eight lines of
the one poet are read in every tongue, and are loved and
cherished.
        And though the other poem has indeed come down
through the ages in libraries and in the cells of scholars,
and though it is remembered, it is neither loved nor read.

                                                        KAHLIL GIBRAN