So the rich add riches to riches, the poor years to years,

The one finds life too brief, the other all too long;

The one’s tale is harmony sweet, the other a funeral song;

One drinks wine as he would water, other’s drunk with his own tears:

The rich by rich meals grows his health, poor poorly subsists on hope;

One’s wife loves dearly him, the other’s spurns his state;

One renders thanks for so dear life, the other envies the late;

One’s children ahead of their age enlarge, other’s hardly cope:

The rich knows relatives distant, the poor no shred of family,

One by fawning society warmed, other’s bare in winter’s despair;

One in all things waxes confident, the other lives off fear;

One his children leaves a wealthy life, other piles of debt only:

By these compares, high my lady, as you are rich and I poor,

The margin stand wide, I think, between your love and mine, much more!


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By Sydney Chesterfield on May 14, 2016 · Posted in Letters To Shindara by E.R. Chesterfield, Literary, Poetry, Trends

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