The Sage (Ottava Rima)

Today I met an extremely wise sage, Who gladly shared with me his treasured wisdom. He told of women who have made his page, of many great-important things to come. For instance, he said I should gladly age, should love with all my heart, and then some; be sober always and control my anger, if I go Ireland I must visit Bangor. He said it was a very pleasant town with women pretty as a dame can be, Their dimpled cheeks always removes man’s frown this little village over by the sea, is very much the same as modest Jamestown For old and new do meet in harmony Whose secrets lay within the falling waves; A mirroring of water’s knack to save. And anger is the dearest friend of fools, Whose sense proves slower than his mouth or hand. And acts in rage are worth no more than stool, Yet less, for stool still gives return to land. And he who works in fume, is but a mule, who soon falls, like the house upon the sand, Moreover the best weapon is still silence Where clemency and reason destroys vengeance. And love, he said’s akin to morning sunshine Whose rays you can bask in, but not control. To nurture love men do use rose and wine But she who lauds these is not for the soul. That I would recognize she who is mine, When me, plus nothing, always is her whole. Such is the woman I must choose to wife; In her humility rests our blessed life. And every day, let knowledge add to wealth. For wisdom is worth so much more than gold, And even more than physical health; For wisdom is divine, this wise sage told. With aging, I accept what I am dealt, With zeal for the tomorrow left untold. With saying this, he waved goodbye to me. In parting told; I should go forth, and be…