Who then is rich, who poor? I'll tell you now
Of one, a meagre life who had to live,
Wear dingy garb, and scarcely could allow
Himself what men call comfort; yet to give
Was his delight, - to give full-heartedly.
Though Fate had hampered him, he always knew
Some one still poorer. In humility
He thus gave hope to him who had small view
Of happier things; - solace to him who wept; -
And to the beaten courage to endure.
He shared his little with the starved, and kept
His best for those who needed most. Though poor,
By giving he grew richer day by day
In all that brightens life's uncertain way.
There was another who had never known
A wish unsatisfied. For everything
That luxury could offer was his own.
Thus all that learning, all that wealth could bring
Adorned his life. The many him would praise, -
For this world loves the prosperous, - and still
Close to himself he hugged his all. To raise
A helping hand he never had the will.
He never heard the cries of men in need.
Of all he had he would not give a part.
For "I" and "mine" was ever his one creed.
No balm had he for any aching heart.
Mean was his life (as was the other's great)
Despite the splendor of his high estate.
And now in yonder world I wonder which -
For both are dead - is counted poor - or rich.