Author Sir Herbert Read In Bednib's shop I picked up a bookAn actor came in in a floating gownHe gave me an objective lookI put the book down.And went into the sunlit streetsWhere cars like shuttles passed my eyesDiscreet, I cried, discreet, discreetAnd only Socrates was wise. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments