Poet: Edgar A. Guest
Does the grouch get richer quicker than the friendly sort of man?
Can the grumbler labor better than the cheerful fellow can?
Is the mean and churlish neighbor any cleverer than the one
Who shouts a glad "good morning" and then smiling passes on?
Just stop and think about it. Have you ever known or seen
A mean man who succeeded, just because he was so mean?
When you find a grouch with honors and with money in his pouch,
You can bet he didn't win them just because he was a grouch.
Oh, you'll not be any poorer if you smile along your way,
And your lot will not be harder for the kindly things you say.
Don't imagine you are wasting time for others that you spend:
You can rise to wealth and glory and still pause to be a friend.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Oh, currency, currency, you cunning old force,
Enticing us with dreams of lavish course.
If our coffers overflowed anew,
Would yachts or kangaroos be in our purview?
Daily pizza feasts would be the norm,
A butler serving, style and form.
Yet, alas, the truth remains secure,
Our cravings for more would endure for sure!
More poems about money and wealth:
Abundance Poem
A Poem About Being Rich
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Is money the root of all evil
Does anything even equal?
The answer my friend is "no"
But let this poem show:
The "love" of money is the problem
It can take your life to the bottom
You may have material things
But your love for it - nothing it brings.
You see money can not buy happiness
Nor can it make you feel blessed.
Helping others, sharing your money
Can help others in being happy.
In this world of ours, greed
Doesn't feel any need
There is enough for everyone
But only a few have a fortune.
You see money can be taken away
And if that is all you have, you will be dismayed
The people in your life who care
Who love you, money can't compare.
But if you let those relationships failed
In search of money, you won't prevail
You will end up with false friends
And if you lose your money that's the end.
So share your wealth do not hoard
And make sure you give back to the Lord
As when your life comes to an end
Money will not comfort you or life extend!
Poet: John Kendrick Bangs
I dreamed last night that I had stores of gold untold,
And toward my fellow-men turned mien so cold
They fled away, and left me to myself
In a forlorn enjoyment of my pelf;
And 'stead of joy amid that golden dower
I found the prospect drab, and chill, and sour.
I came to hate the dross, and when the dawn
Awoke me, I rejoiced to find it gone.
And in its place the truest kind of wealth:
The love of all my neighbours and good health.
Poems About Helping Others
Poet: Edgar A. Guest
He spent what he made, or he gave it away,
Tried to save money, and would for a day,
Started a bank-account time an' again.
Got a hundred or so for a nest egg, an' then
Some fellow that needed it more than he did.
Who was down on his luck, with a sick wife or kid.
Came along an' he wasted no time till he went
An' drew out the coin that for saving was meant.
They say he died poor, and I guess that is so:
To pile up a fortune he hadn't a show;
He worked all the time and good money he made,
Was known as an excellent man at his trade,
But he saw too much, heard too much, felt too much here
To save anything by the end of the year.
An' the shabbiest wreck the Lord ever let live
Could get money from him if he had it to give.
I've seen him slip dimes to the bums on the street
Who told him they hungered for something to eat,
An' though I remarked they were going for drink
He'd say: "Mebbe so. But I'd just hate to think
That fellow was hungry an' Id passed him by;
I'd rather be fooled twenty times by a lie
Than wonder if one of 'em I wouldn't feed
Had told me the truth an' was really in need."
Never stinted his family out of a thing:
They had everything that his money could bring;
Said he'd rather be broke and just know they were glad,
Than rich, with them pining an' wishing they had
Some of the pleasures his money would buy;
Said he never could look a bank book in the eye
If he knew it had grown on the pleasures and joys
That he'd robbed from his wife and his girls and his boys.
Queer sort of notion he had, I confess,
Yet many a rich man on earth is mourned less.
All who had known him came back to his side
To honor his name on the day that he died.
Didn't leave much in the bank, it is true.
But did leave a fortune in people who knew
The big heart of him, an' I'm willing to swear
That to-day he is one of the richest up there.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
In this world where fortune’s tale is told,
Amongst gold mines and fortunes to behold,
Let not thy heart be lost in all the strife,
For treasures lie beyond material life.
Money won’t buy happiness profound,
Nor love, that makes our hearts resound.
A smile, a touch, these have their own decree,
More precious than any wealth could ever be!
With fervent beat my spirit takes its flight,
An excitement kindled by these things so bright!
For deep within the riches we may find,
Lies the essence of a life divinely aligned.
Poet: Arthur Franklin Fuller
Money - Money - Money -
Once I sought the jingling hoard-stuff,
Heard its siren tinkle sounding,
Felt the lust that makes men battle,
Disregard all save achievement;
Every muscle, nerve and talent,
Bent to winning sordid treasures
Scorning peace and homelier pleasures.
Blinding eyes to Nature's doings.
Deafening ears to song-bird's wooings.
Longing, feverish, for that great hour.
When should sound at their dictation
Siren tones that conquer most men -
Make them slaves as I have been.
Money - Money - Money -
Well I knew its magic jingle,
Sweet, elusive as its mother;
Tameless, lawless, who may hold her?
Wings she taketh, swift and silent,
Leaving subtly, without warning -
Cruel as a woman's scorning.
Money! how the sound did lure me -
Made me bow to my task-master.
Fiercely guard each hard won vantage-
Long it baffled my endeavors;
But in time I gained the summit -
Form-ed a gold-tide, watched the scramble -
Made a test of what 'twould buy me.
Money - Money - Money -
Disapproving frowns now vanished;
Doors that had been closed, now opened -
Haughty ways were changed to fawning;
Strangers boasted long acquaintance,
Pledged their everlasting friendship;
Balls, receptions, in my honor.
Signs of favor without number.
Sped the time, fulfilled my longings.
Turned such appetite to loathing;
Satan laughing, scoffing, sneering,
Watched the fall my hopes were taking;
All this lacked the ring of true steel -
Echoed only siren tinkle.
Money - Money - Money -
When the silly, vapid laughter
Died away and left me stranded,
When the dance had turned to fool-play,
And the dinners changed to hell-feasts.
When I saw the drifting favor,
Pierced the shallowness and pretense.
Soft I heard a voice of music,
Sounding like a voice from Heaven;
Knew a hand-clasp, heard the joy-tone
Of a heart's sincere devotion.
Then I knew that gold and silver
Bring no joy to feed the hunger
Of a heart that yearns for trueness.
Money - Money - Money -
Blessed be the day you left me -
Now I laugh at Satan's luring;
I have learned the truer values -
Count my treasures in the tresses
Gold as sunset - crowning glory
Of a vision fair as wholesome -
Mark the rubies of her rose lips,
Love the turquois 'neath her lashes,
Love the smile that shows her pearl teeth;
Love the privilege of love-clasp,
Love her graceful form, and yielding;
Love her sweet ways, loving service.
Love the blessing of her nearness.
Money - Money - Money -
What a silly, teasing earth-god;
Bringing discontent to thousands;
Bribing, tempting, cursing many.
Tinkle, tinkle, clinking silver-
Chime your sweetest, yellow gold-stuffs,
I have treasures far above you;
Far more precious than you all.
I've a queen that knows my ardor,
Loves my love and care and labor:
Treasures, treasures, boundless, worthy;
Here my whole heart glad, enslaved is:
Here my jewels, gold and silver;
Life flows peaceful as a river.
money quotes
Poet: John Kendrick Bangs
Money comes, and money goes.
Where it goes to, goodness knows;
Feeds us, clothes us, pays the rent;
Sometimes borrowed, often lent;
Makes a pleasant, jingly sound;
Rather nice to have around.
But it never kept a friend!
Broken hearts 'twill never mend.
As a substitute for Right
Frequently it heaves in sight;
But it is a substitute
That holds mighty bitter fruit.
Misers hoard it; tyrants rule
When they use it for a tool;
And for want of it the roar
Of the Wolf comes to the door.
I will take all I can get
Since it holds me free of debt.
I'll respect it for its power
To relieve some pressing hour.
But for worship — well, for me
God forbid that that should be!
