Wealth Poem

Wealth is not the things we own–
A stately house upon a hill,
Paintings, rugs and tapestries,
Or servants taught to do one’s will.
In luxury, a man may dwell,
As lonely as in a prison cell.

Wealth is not a plenteous purse,
The bonds that one has stored away,
A boastful balance in a bank,
Or jewelled baubles that fools display.
The things that really gratify
Are things that money cannot buy.

Wealth is health, and a cheerful heart,
An ear that hears the robin’s song,
A mind content, some treasured friends,
And fragrant memories lingering on.
Living is an inward art–
All lasting wealth is in the heart!

-Alfred Grant Walton