1001 – 1010: Futile Wealth

Dead is he with wealth in pile 1001
Unenjoyed, it is futile.
The niggard miser thinks wealth is all 1002
He hoards, gives not is born devil.
A burden he is to earth indeed 1003
Who hoards without a worthy deed.
What legacy can he leave behind 1004
Who is for approach too unkind.
What is the good of crores they hoard 1005
To give and enjoy whose heart is hard.
Great wealth unused for oneself nor 1006
To worthy men is but a slur.
Who loaths to help have-nots, his gold 1007
Is like a spinster-belle grown old.
The idle wealth of unsought men 1008
Is poison-fruit-tree amidst a town.
Others usurp the shining gold 1009
In loveless, stingy, vicious hold.
The brief want of the rich benign 1010
Is like rainclouds growing thin.

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