Be not a beggar
Avoid seeking aids
Unless in bare needs;
Avoid getting helps
Unless in dire needs.
Provide in equals
To those aids and helps.
You should not afford
To be a beggar.
Offer help and aids
That must not be baits;
Offer gifts and kinds
That should not be a debt.
Your pay out should not be
Less than your receipts.
You cannot afford to be a beggar,
You be not greedy
Which makes you ugly.
Then you aren’t shut
Doors by the dear ones.
You may remain poor
But not a beggar.
Being a beggar
Is worse than a slave.
18 09,2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Twins, The
``Give'' and ``It-shall-be-given-unto-you.''
I.
Grand rough old Martin Luther
Bloomed fables---flowers on furze,
The better the uncouther:
Do roses stick like burrs?
II.
A beggar asked an alms
One day at an abbey-door,
Said Luther; but, seized with qualms,
The abbot replied, ``We're poor!
III.
``Poor, who had plenty once,
``When gifts fell thick as rain:
``But they give us nought, for the nonce,
``And how should we give again?''
IV.
Then the beggar, ``See your sins!
``Of old, unless I err,
``Ye had brothers for inmates, twins,
``Date and Dabitur.
V.
``While Date was in good case
``Dabitur flourished too:
``For Dabitur's lenten face
``No wonder if Date rue.
VI.
``Would ye retrieve the one?
``Try and make plump the other!
``When Date's penance is done,
``Dabitur helps his brother.
VII.
``Only, beware relapse!''
The Abbot hung his head.
This beggar might be perhaps
An angel, Luther said.
poem by Robert Browning
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The Twins
"Give" and "It-shall-be-given-unto-you"
I
Grand rough old Martin Luther
Bloomed fables-flowers on furze,
The better the uncouther:
Do roses stick like burrs?
II
A beggar asked an alms
One day at an abbey-door,
Said Luther; but, seized with qualms,
The abbot replied, "We're poor!"
III
"Poor, who had plenty once,
When gifts fell thick as rain:
But they give us nought, for the nonce,
And now should we give again?"
IV
Then the beggar, "See your sins!
Of old, unless I err,
Ye had brothers for inmates, twins,
Date and Dabitur.
V
"While Date was in good case
Dabitur flourished too:
For Dabitur's lenten face
No wonder if Date rue.
VI
"Would ye retrieve the one?
Try and make plump the other!
When Date's penance is done,
Dabitur helps his brother.
VII
"Only, beware relapse!"
The Abbot hung his head.
This beggar might be perhaps
An angel, Luther said.
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beggar is better
A dependant is worse than a beggar,
Though both of them don’t get self respects,
In that he, unlike the beggar, would get
Humiliations from his known people.
01.12.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Running To Paradise
As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap.
For I am running to paradise;
And all that I need do is to wish
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout,
And I am running to paradise;
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I am running to paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school,
Now it has filled a old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurty upon my way.
For I am running to paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The seer and the beggar.
Ego battered, bereaved of kith and kin,
Bereft of worldly things, a beggar dies
With no wish, no curse and no regrets;
That amounts to detachment of the world.
Ego nursed, blessed with devotees,
Proud of being humble, can a seer die
With no wish, no curse and no regrets,
To confirm to detachment of the world?
More than the seer, it is the beggar
Who is fit to dispense with rebirth.
Can you follow the path of the beggar?
Is there salvation sans humiliation?
A seer is proud he leads you to God.
You are proud you follow him to God.
You both want to leave your names behind.
With the love for the world after your exit,
Can you hope that you avoid rebirth?
26.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beggar
The thought of great social solitude,
The sight of everyone having an attitude,
Being the neglected in the maltittude,
The pity viewed in verisimilitude,
The life of a beggar
His clothes torn and stomarch empty,
Always dancing to their tune,
Exploited and greatly tortured,
His presence mean nothing to them,
Their presence mean everything to him
He walks door to door for livelihood,
They dont walk to him to give life,
He is seeking life everyday,
Yet life does not seek him even one day
The beggar with rolling tears
Life like that of a beggar,
Love like that of a life,
Begging for the conditional love,
Do I have to beg your love?
Like the beggar beg for life,
My determinism flashes through,
Im breaking the steel bars my love,
Loosening the metalic chains off,
Love is love, not to be begged for,
Love is love, not to use each other,
Love is love, no need for persuation,
For so long it is love,
I will never be begging anymore,
Such love will be deceit,
Such truth will be fake,
And such commitment will be futile
Such a lover will be like a beggar,
Such a beloved will be like a lifegiver,
And such their love will be a shame
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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I have had lots of friends who've been affected by Aids and a very good friend of mine, Oscar Moore, died of Aids and I was with him in his last year quite a bit. And of course he was a man living in a very rich culture with a wealthy family who was able to afford health care.
quote by Emma Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better Be a Beggar
A beggar is not a robber.
He’s not a swindler or a hoarder.
He is as he could not be they.
Being a beggar is not a shame.
(10.04.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A beggar will always be a beggar even if they give him the whole world as a gift.
The beggar that begs near another beggar will never be rich.
Night's still awake with flexible souls
At the daybreak a drunkard whispers to a beggar's ear
Who's fast asleep on the concrete bed!
'Sorry for the inconvenience brother!
Short of few coins and I want to go back home
As I lost my way last night and slept in a strange place.'
The kind beggar gave him a brand new dollar note
with a big yawn and he's surprised.
He jumped to the first bus and gone.
Now the beggar remembers the friend
Once offered him a drink and he's worried
That he should have given him more.
* A Diamond is a chunk of coal that made good under pressure.
-Anonymous
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Jolly Beggar II
THERE was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound,
And he took up his quarters into a landart town.
Fa la la, etc.
He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre,
But in ahint the ha-door, or else afore the fire.
The beggar’s bed was made at een wi good clean straw and hay,
And in ahint the ha-door, and there the beggar lay.
raise the goodman’s dochter, and for to bar the door,
And there she saw the beggar standin i the floor.
He took the lassie in his arms and to the bed he ran,
‘O hooly, hooly wi me, sir! ye’ll waken our goodman.’
The beggar was a cunnin loon, and neer a word he spake
Until he got his turn done, syne he began to crack.
‘Is there ony dogs into this town? maiden, tell me true.’
‘And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and my dow?’
‘They’ll rive a’ my mealpocks, and do me meikle wrang.’
‘O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor man?’
Then she took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa:
‘The d--l gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenhead and a’!
‘I took ye for some gentleman, at least the Larid of Brodie;
O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor bodie?’
took the lassie in his arms and gae her kisses three,
And four-and-twenty hunder merk to pay the nurice-fee.
He took a horn frae his side and blew baith loud and shrill,
And four-and-twenty belted knights came skipping oer the hill.
And he took out his little knife, loot a’ his duddies fa,
And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a’.
The beggar was a cliver loon and he lap shoulder height:
‘O ay for sicken quarters as I gat yesternight!’
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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A beggar himself, can he afford to have one asking for alms at his door?
A homework
We were told to draw a portrait at our choice
but we were send only words.
The beggar was still there, near the apple-tree in blossom,
punished to count stars or to assist the leaves' death.
I refused my tears and began my homework.
The light was for all and for free,
the beggar was thought the fear's pride.
I took the words and have drawn this poem at my choice.
The apple-tree smiled to the beggar
in this light for all and for free
poem by Clava Ghirca
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coronation
At the king's gate the subtle noon
Wove filmy yellow nets of sun;
Into the drowsy snare too soon
The guards fell one by one.
Through the king's gate, unquestioned then,
A beggar went and laughed, 'This brings
Me chance, at last, to see if men
Fare better being kings.'
The king sat bowed beneath his crown,
Propping his face with listless hand;
Watching the hour-glass sifting down
Too slow its shining sand.
'Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?'
The beggar turned, and pitying,
Replied, like one in dream, 'Of thee,
Nothing. I want the king.'
Uprose the king, and from his head
Shook off the crown, and threw it by.
'O man, thou must have known,' said he,
'A greater king than I.'
Through all the gates, unquestioned then,
Went king and beggar hand in hand.
Whispered the king, 'Shall I know when
Before
his
throne I stand?'
The beggar laughed. Free winds in haste
Were wiping from the king's hot brow
The crimson lines the crown had traced.
'This is his presence now.'
At the king's gate, the crafty noon
Unwove its yellow nets of sun;
Out of their sleep in terror soon
The guards waked one by one.
'Ho here! Ho There! Has no man seen
The king?' The cry ran to and fro;
Beggar and king, they laughed, I ween,
The laugh that free men know.
On the king's gate the moss grew gray;
The king came not. They called him dead;
And made his eldest son one day
Slave in his father's stead.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Lines in Praise of Tommy Atkins
Success to Tommy Atkins, he's a very brave man,
And to deny it there's few people can;
And to face his foreign foes he's never afraid,
Therefore he's not a beggar, as Rudyard Kipling has said.
No, he's paid by our Government, and is worthy of his hire;
And from our shores in time of war he makes our foes retire,
He doesn't need to beg; no, nothing so low;
No, he considers it more honourable to face a foreign foe.
No, he's not a beggar, he's a more useful man,
And, as Shakespeare has said, his life's but a span;
And at the cannon's mouth he seeks for reputation,
He doesn't go from door to door seeking a donation.
Oh, think of Tommy Atkins when from home far away,
Lying on the battlefield, earth's cold clay;
And a stone or his knapsack pillowing his head,
And his comrades lying near by him wounded and dead.
And while lying there, poor fellow, he thinks of his wife at home,
And his heart bleeds at the thought, and he does moan;
And down his cheek flows many a silent tear,
When he thinks of his friends and children dear.
Kind Christians, think of him when far, far away,
Fighting for his Queen and Country without dismay;
May God protect him wherever he goes,
And give him strength to conqner his foes.
To call a soldier a beggar is a very degrading name,
And in my opinion it's a very great shame;
And the man that calls him a beggar is not the soldier's friend,
And no sensible soldier should on him depend.
A soldier is a man that ought to be respected,
And by his country shouldn't be neglected;
For he fights our foreign foes, and in danger of his life,
Leaving behind him his relatives and his dear wife.
Then hurrah for Tommy Atkins, he's the people's friend,
Because when foreign foes assail us he does us defend;
He is not a beggar, as Rudyard Kipling has said,
No, he doesn't need to beg, he lives by his trade.
And in conclusion I will say,
Don't forget his wife and children when he's far away;
But try and help them all you can,
For remember Tommy Atkins is a very useful man.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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