THE world, while thou anguishest, passeth away,
Abate both the woe and the weal of the day,
But if thou adventure the pathway of greed
The process of this world is longsome indeed!
One view is—'Tis well after greatness to seek
All be that it lurk mid the Dragon's own reek,
And servants of greed and provokers of strife
Will hear not commendment from any in life:
The other—What reck if, since none can abide,
Our Hostel of Sojourn be narrow or wide?
Whenas the tall Cypress is bent in the grove,
And darkened the light of the Lustre above,
When leafage is withered, when roots are unsound,
And top is beginning to nod toward the ground,
From dust having issued to dust it will go,
While all is dismayment and horror and woe.
Man's nature, when prudence and wisdom are his,
Accepteth untroubled the world as it is,
Yet travail of body, if long be thy stay,
Enforceth the need for thy passing away.
Life's ocean is deep, and no bottom we see;
A hoard 'tis of secrets whose door hath no key.
Thy wants will but greaten what while thou remain,
And each day's provision prove provand for pain.
But three things are needful—food, raiment, and bed;
For these no reproaches descend on thy head.
Content thee, for all else is travail and greed,
And greed is a torment no lighter than need.
Thou knowest that this world is fleeting, why let
Thy soul and thy spirit with covetise fret?
Enjoy what thou hast, seek not more to possess,
For greed will but make thine own glory the less.