Not to Worry, There’s More in the Bank

Do not despair that I have set low price

Upon my intellect and all its blooms,

Its wild embellishments, creative rooms

Filled full with every possible device

Invention and intelligence can build–

My brilliance shedding dazzling insights far

As light can travel from the largest star–

My memory mansion’s rooms are this far filled,

And yet I charge a pittance, just a cent,

For all the riches I have made to date,

And fling them with abandon, though so great,

Along the curb beneath your pediment.

Why would I cast my wealth thus at your feet?

Like pennies, I am also obsolete.