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. 

Of one, a meagre life who had to live,

Himself what men call comfort; yet to give

Though Fate had hampered him, he always knew

He thus gave hope to him who had small view

And to the beaten courage to endure.

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.

A wish unsatisfied. For everything

Thus all that learning, all that wealth could bring

For this world loves the prosperous,—and still

A helping hand he never had the will.

Of all he had he would not give a part.

No balm had he for any aching heart.

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