Oh! How when young, we with arrogance untold,
thought the panacea of life was acquisition of gold,
to traverse this world with pompous air divine,
life then bespeckled, fostered through one's jeweled mine;
Oh! How life's oration taught us, how much less
is fortunes worth, than rich smiles of happiness,
thus greed we find is but rage in low degree,
when in narrow pursuit, a wider vista never see,
nor conceive the naked truth, aborted and unblessed,
walk a narrow path, each laboured footstep stress'd,
yet smiling condemn the poor, forever their empty store,
know not the dignity that emulates behind the cottage door,
who are satisfied, with free flighted simplistic things,
compares well, with constant hunger of gold waring Kings,
who divorce themselves, from the poor and happy throng,
yet with pomp and pageantry there false attire belong,
exhibit their fragile posture, begging alms of flattery,
languish blindfold, hold on tight to their transparentcy,
whilst the humble with wry smile, forever each their own,
sad the privileged rich, alas their individuality has flown,
yet in blushless conceit, they constantly request
from there low born minions,gold to keep there coffers blest,
smiling savour there ill-gotten hoard, in vain glory forever told,
that seems to illustrate the wretched impotency of gold,
thus better far, walk proud, free from chains and fetters
and cleanse the heart from greed's false letters.