Theocritus (315 BC - 260 BC / Greece)
Epitaph of Eusthenes
Here the shrewd physiognomist Eusthenes lies,
Who could tell all your thoughts by a glance at your eyes.
A stranger, with strangers his honoured bones rest;
They valued sweet song, and he gave them his best.
All the honours of death doth the poet possess:
If a small one, they mourned for him nevertheless.
Comments about this poem (Epitaph of Eusthenes by Theocritus )
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