Rich or Poor
With thy true love I have more wealth
Than Charon's piled-up bank doth hold;
Where he makes kings lay down their crowns
And life-long misers leave their gold.
Without thy love I've no more wealth
Than seen upon that other shore;
That cold, bare bank he rows them to -
Those kings and misers made so poor.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Related quotes
Drive is environment molded
One must crave at least one of the
Three: Love, Power or Wealth.
Womanizers and martyrs for love,
Despots and saviors for power
And misers and robbers for wealth
Have been craving since infancy.
18.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Forms of Wealth
To money is attributed wealth
But the open truth of wealth
Is, It is not the only kind of wealth—
There are also other forms of wealth!
Good health is the best form of wealth
Forging rich links in relationships is wealth
Spontaneous love for all life forms is wealth
To have enthusiasm in life is wealth.
Acquiring life-long learning is wealth
Experience and wisdom in life is wealth
Meeting new people is also wealth
Visiting new places too is authentic wealth.
The quest to explore something is wealth
To have a positive mind-set is wealth
Existence of deep internal peace is wealth
Early morning waking up with joy is wealth.
Possessing high self-respect is wealth
Having strong spiritual connection is wealth
There exist so many types of wealth
Constitute all these and you're with full wealth!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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You Are The Mother Beneath Our Wings Dedicated to my mother who thought she had nothing to give-but gave the wisest things!
You are the mother beneath our wings, born into poverty brought us the
wealth of many kings, When you art young and don't have anything, you rely on
your Mother to give you everything, For a poor mother who had nothing you gave the
wisest things, You are the Mother beneath our wings.
Being poor was a rich experience for us and heartbreaking for you
You planted many seeds and nourished your ten kids needs
You gave us the wealth of may kings-coming from poverty taught us many things
The way you loved your life, being the kissin' bandit's wife
We were dirt poor, but it wasn't all bad
If material wealth as all we had-We wouldn't appreciate life and be thankful for what
we have. What you gave was unique, prized above material things
To each child special gifts you did bring
We were never too poor to give something-when you think you can't give nothing
You van give the wisest things-The love you gave will be treasured more than anything
When the trumpet blows and you rise up to meet your king
REMEMBER the lilies blooming in spring and that you gave your best in EVERYTHING!
poem by Miriam McKee
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Golden Bird, Painted Black
From beginning I heard
India was a golden bird,
Mughals, Britishers arrived
Looted wealth and destroyed
As she had wealth natural
Precious stones and pearl
Real gold, range of mineral
And knowledge of spiritual.
Hard work of noble citizens
Has mounted wealth again
But many citizens still feel pity
They are to live below poverty.
The amount involved in scams
Amount brought to Swiss bank,
Can run India totally tax free,
Not less the decades of three.
As said hundred trillion rupees
Is deposited in banks of Swiss,
Mere interest at Indian bank rate,
Can change poor people’s fate.
People below poverty can
Easily get per capita income.
India was a bird of gold,
India is still a bird of gold
But in black, it is painted
Her worthyness is dented.
If this black is removed,
Will again shine like gold.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Old Dutch Love Song
I am not rich, and yet my wealth
Surpasseth human measure;
My store untold
Is not of gold
Nor any sordid treasure.
Let this one hoard his earthly pelf,
Another court ambition--
Not for a throne
Would I disown
My poor and proud condition!
The worldly gain achieved to-day
To-morrow may be flying--
The gifts of kings
Are fleeting things--
The gifts of love undying!
In her I love is all my wealth--
For her my sole endeavor;
No heart, I ween,
Hath fairer queen,
No liege such homage, ever!
poem by Eugene Field
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Wealth
I declare beyond fortresses then and now,
I decide when and why my sayings are run,
We demand the wealth of the world to be,
And we devise a holy happening because of we.
Wealth must not expire or be destroyed for
the kings and queens have all the wealth.
So many are dazzled by wealth, riches and money.
So much has occured afterwards, I believe.
poem by Naveed Akram
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
My heart lies in pieces all over the ground
Whos gonna help me when youre not around
And I know inside me ,that nobody cares
Whatever happens to me
I live my life as a plea
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
I was in love when I sat on my wall
No one could hurt me , no one at all
And I know that somewhere my love walked away
She threw my love to the sky
Nothing to do but to cry
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My river bank
The water hit the bank
Like a wave upon a shore
Happiness just out of reach
Finding that is something you can’t teach
No one to talk to
No one to see
As you can tell just me
I sit alone on my river bank
No happy people passing by as I let out a gentle sigh
I realized I sit alone on my river bank
Unreal happiness in this unreal tournament they call life
I sit alone, isolated on my river bank
I shall always sit alone on my river bank
I will always be alone on this river bank
poem by EmOzEd johnston
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Ideals
Better than land or gold or trade
Are a high ideal and a purpose true;
Better than all of the wealth we've made
Is the work for others that now we do.
For Rome grew rich and she turned to song
And danced to music and drank her wine,
But she sapped the strength of her fibres strong
And a gilded shroud was her splendor fine.
The Rome of old with its wealth and wine
Was the handiwork of a sturdy race;
They builded well and they made it fine
And they dreamed of it as their children's place.
They thought the joys they had won to give,
And which seemed so certain and fixed and sure,
To the end of time in the world would live
And the Rome they'd fashioned would long endure.
They passed to their children the hoarded gold,
Their marble halls and their fertile fields!
But not the spirit of Rome of old,
Nor the Roman courage that never yields.
They left them the wealth that their hands had won,
But they failed to leave them a purpose true.
They left them thinking life's work all done,
And Rome went down and was lost to view.
We must guard ourselves lest we follow Rome.
We must leave our children the finer things.
We must teach them love of the spot called home
And the lasting joy that a purpose brings.
For vain are our Flag and our battles won,
And vain are our lands and our stores of gold,
If our children feel that life's work is done.
We must give them a high ideal to hold.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
I woke up this mornin that this is what I found.
You had gone and left me,
Any you never even made a farewell sound.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
I asked my friends about you and this is what they said,
She can live without you,
Shes gonna find a man with money instead.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
Someday you will know, the meaning of a love thats true.
But when you find out I wont be around to share it with you.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wealth Wont Save Your Soul
(e) as we journey along, on (a) lifes wicked (e) road,
So selfish are we, for silver and (b7) gold,
You can (e) treasure your wealth, your (a) diamonds and (e) gold,
But my friends it wont save, your (b7) poor wicked (e) soul.
For when God calls, from his home up on high,
To your earthly wealth, you must say goodbye,
Then its useless to you, if youve strayed from the fold,
For my friend it wont save your poor wicked soul.
The rich man like all, will be judged at that time,
But all of his wealth, will be left behind.
For no matter how much earthly wealth you get hold,
Well my friend it wont save, your poor wicked soul.
This verse on demo record only * * * * *
When the world is on fire, on that judgement day,
For all of our wrongs, then we must pay,
But the debt cant be paid, with silver and gold,
No friends it wont save, your poor wicked soul.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty is Fleeting
Men why run after her beauty
For when she old what good will she bring
With beauty here today and gone
Tomorrow there’s no anchor
Beauty doesn't hold it grabs so why lust
It brings no fortune but a woman who love God
Bring a man wealth not the one the bank stores
But the wealth that comes from the God
For what can Beauty do for me besides inflict her pain on me
She is hurt in her own insecurity’s
But a women who fears the lord build her security in him
So my brother take this to heart and don't
Let her beauty tear you apart
poem by Joshua Winfield
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Song
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
poem by Aphra Behn
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Everson II
This poem kis about the worth of your wealth,
And like the muse of your love in the garden of peace;
But, i am Everson who just got the smell of the aroma of your love.
You worth my love amd i also have my wealth to present to you,
So, try to understand my creativity;
For, true love makes the world goes round to touch us all.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Darling
I am beyond the reach of my darling but,
My darling will hear my call always;
Because, the Kings are in the place of the gods!
Be wise enough not to touch the cup,
Hear the tolling of the bells and see to your lover;
For she could be seen in any moment from now.
I am beyond the reach of my lover but,
My lover knows my signals;
I am beyond the reach of my lover but,
We have a way of communicating.
In every useful toil and the art of love,
Let her love in the icy of the night be blessed;
But of wealth's wasteful tricks i will not learn.
The Kings answer to gods but not men,
Like a prophet found drunk than his words;
For when my darling comes,
I will kiss her cheeks all night long.
When i do meet her,
I will kiss her lips of love;
For her food of love is quite enough for me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Fifty years ago wealth was stored and transmitted physically through gold bars, stock certificates, bank notes, and coins.
quote by Scott Cook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shepherd's Wife's Song
Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,
And sweeter, too:
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:
Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:
He kisseth first, then sits at blithe to eat
His cream and curds, as doth a king his meat,
And blither, too:
For kings have often fears when they do sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:
To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween,
As is a king in dalliance with a queen;
More wanton, too:
For kings have many griefs, affects to move,
Where shepherds have no greater grief than love:
Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth the king upon his bed of down;
More sounder, too:
For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:
Thus, with his wife, he spends the year as blithe
As doth the king at every tide or sithe,
And blither, too:
For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
Where shepherds laugh and love upon the land:
Ah then, ah then,
Since country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
poem by Robert Greene
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Tina Toledos Street Walkin Blues
Sweet talkin johnny push a john quicker than he spit
Street walkin tin with a crooked crown waitin for it
There she goes
She born in boston but the amtrak took her away
She lives in brooklyn but she works outta queens in the
Black limousines, money in the bank
Black limousines, money in the bank
Send it home
Tina toledo got a kid that lives with her ma
She takes the subway after school, makes up her face, changes clothes
There she goes
She feels the rain coming down on washington square
She gives the cops on the beat a little discount
And then, then, then its
Black limousines, money in the bank
Black limousines, money in the bank
Wend it home
Hard on the knees, money in the bag
Hard on the knees, money in the bag
Send it home for medical school
Rock herself to sleep with the rhythm of the rain
Beating like the be against the window frame
Of her hotel room
Rock herself to sleep with the tunes on the dash
Dont take no credit cards, she takes cash
Says, money, money, money in the bank
Money, money, money in the bank
Money, money, money in the bank
Money, money, money in the bank
It aint no easy life but it pays pretty good,
Keeps her out of the cold
It aint no easy life
But its silver and gold
Silver, silver, silver and gold
Tina toledos street walkin blues
Street walkin, wtreet walkin blues
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between The Rich and The Poor
Who draws the gap between people?
They call them rich, they call them poor
The rich squander in wealth and abundance
The poor wonder what to eat next time.
Who allows injustice as iron fists
Smashing down the humble dignity
Of the weak, elevating the powerful
To decide what for the poor is best?
Who wakes up in the middle of the night
Feeling the grumbling hungry tummy
Over an open roof and empty plates?
Who orders trips to paradise during holidays
Hoarding bank shares and silver and gold?
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Anniversary
ALL kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun it self, which makes time, as they pass,
Is elder by a year now than it was
When thou and I first one another saw.
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.
Two graves must hide thine and my corse;
If one might, death were no divorce.
Alas ! as well as other princes, we
—Who prince enough in one another be—
Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears;
But souls where nothing dwells but love
—All other thoughts being inmates—then shall prove
This or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.
And then we shall be throughly blest;
But now no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we're kings, and none but we
Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be.
Who is so safe as we? where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore; this is the second of our reign.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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