"[T]hen considering that a poet, if he is really to be a poet or maker, should not only put words together but make stories, and as I have no invention, I took some fables of Aesop, which I had ready at hand and knew, and turned them into verse."
~Socrates, in Plato's Phaedo
It seems that while in prison, Socrates took up poetry, and after working on a hymn to Apollo he turned to Aesop's fables.
When I gave my poetry class, one of the assignments was to turn an Aesop's fable into verse, and my younger brother let me know me that putting Aesop into verse had such a venerable history -- going back all the way to Socarates!
For the assignment, I versified one of my favourite of Aesop's Fables:
The Goatherd and the Wild Goats
(note: if you prefer to read poems single-spaced, I have put this poem single-spaced in the comments.)
No cloak, no fleece upon that day sufficed;
The penetrating wind through every coat
Blew rain straight to the skin, as cold as ice.
It fiercely flogged a goatherd and his goats
Exposed upon the open mountain side.
But, oh! their joy to see a deep, dark gash
Cleft in the rock— “Come on!” the goatherd cried
“It’s snug and dry — I’ll feed you oats and mash
In comfort while it rains.” The soaking goats
Pursued their master through the cloven stone,
And huddled, dripping, eager for the oats,
But soon they sensed that they were not alone.
A herd of wild goats had come before
To shelter in the cave from that same rain,
And when the goatherd saw these many more
He made a different plan about his grain.
With hopes his flock to double on that day
He called to them “Fresh Oats! All you can eat!”
But for his faithful flock a stalk of hay
As sustenance for each he reckoned meet.
Yet when the sheets of rain had ceased to fall,
The stranger goats all scampered from the cave;
“You false ingrates!” the outraged goatherd called
Is this your thanks for all the food I gave?”
“Why should we join your flock?” the goats then bleated,
“We’ve seen quite clearly how we would be treated.”