I do not sit and sigh for wealth untold, It never thrusts itself into my schemes; I shrink from all your piles of clanking gold, -- Better my sparkling hoard of golden dreams. A life of limousined and jeweled ease Is but a round of fathomless ennui. Your motor cars, your pearls, your stables -- these Are naught to me. Better a homely flat in Harlem's wilds Than costly living's spurious benefits; Better a simple butter-cake at Childs' Than caviar and stalled ox at the Ritz. Your unearned gold, to me, is shot with flaws; A life of honest toil I'd make my lot, -- Which really makes it very nice, because It's what I've got. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEN BOLT by THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH THE GORSE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON AN OLD SWEETHEART [OF MINE] by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY OF THE MANNER OF ADDRESSING CLOUDS by WALLACE STEVENS OF AN ORCHARD by KATHARINE TYNAN THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM by HENRY KIRKE WHITE |