We squander health in search of wealth;
We scheme and toil and save;
Then squander wealth in search of health,
But only find a grave.
We live, and boast of what we own;
We die, and only get a stone.
The love of money is a chain,
Binding souls to greedy pain.
The love of money is a jail,
Bare abode of Hunger pale.
The love of money is a czar,
Lord of slaves that wretches are.
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Author:
Henry Canticle (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 22nd, 2018 21:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Mirrorphen
Offline)
Comments2
This is beautifully written, well said.
Thank You!
Bravo Sir!
Thank You Ma'am
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