TRUE GLORY. To whom is glory justly due? To those who pride and hate subdue; Who, 'mid the joys that lure the sense, Lead lives of holy abstinence; Who, when reviled, their tongues restrain, And, injured, injure not again; Who ask of none, but freely give Most liberal to all that live; Who toil unresting through the day, Their parents' joy and hope and stay; Who welcome to their homes the guest, Who work not, speak not, think not sin, From the dear wives who cheer their home; Whose hero souls cast fear away When battling in a rightful fray; Who speak the truth with dying breath Undaunted by approaching death, Their lives illumed with beacon light The honours which they scorn to seek ; And earnest, faithful, work and pray ; To these, the bounteous, pure, and true, Mahabharata. Who gift for gift returns. Not with the rich thy treasures share; Give aid to those who need; And, with the gold thy wants can spare, Be sure that those who would receive Deserve and crave thy care; And ponder, ere thy hands relieve, The how, and when, and where. THE WISE SCHOLAR. I hold that scholar truly wise Who schools his heart and lips and eyes: Who can as worthless clay behold The treasures of another's gold: Who looks upon his neighbour's wife As upon her who gave him life: Who feels as for himself for all That live on earth, both great and small. THE END. |