People may find it strange that I, as a poet, am about to write about becoming wealthy. After all, I can imagine people sneering and making comments along the lines of, “What would a poet know of honest toil and commercial gain?”
This merely shows how short-sighted and ignorant they are. I am a poet! I know many wealthy people. After all you have to be wealthy before you can aspire to become the Patron of the leading poet of his generation. We poets don’t grow on trees you know. We have to be gently nurtured and tended, our wants supplied and a steady stream of silver poured into our pockets to provoke us to creative genius. On the other hand it strikes me, looking around at my circle of acquaintance, that being a friend of a poet is a position aspired to by the penurious and semi-destitute.
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