Note 249 — Chapter XXI · THE ANTHOLOGY.
Reading edition
The sculptor's country? Sicyon. His name? Lysippus. You? Time, that all things can tame. Why thus a-tiptoe? I have halted never. Why ankle-winged? I fly like wind forever. But in your hand that razor? 'Tis a pledge That I am keener than the keenest edge. Why falls your hair in front? For him to bind Who meets me. True: but then you're bald behind? Yes, because when with winged feet I have passed 'Tis vain upon my back your hands to cast. Why did the sculptor carve you? For your sake Here in the porch I stand; my lesson take.