A Man of cash and credit shorn
(The Devil only in his purse),
Resolved to hang himself one morn,
Since death by hunger might be worse:
A king of death which pleases not
Those curious in their final taste.
A rope and nail he quickly got,
And fixed them to a wall in haste.
The wall was weak and very old,
With the man′s weight it crumbling fell;
When out there came a stream of gold,
The Treasure that he loved so well.
He did not stay to count, but ran;
Pale Penury no more he feared.
When in the miser came—poor man!
To find his wealth had disappeared.
"Gold gone! This cord′s my only wealth!"
He cried; "now I have lost all hope:"
And so straightway he hanged himself.
How changed the fortunes of that rope!
The miser saves his wealth for those
Who may be prudent, may be thieves;
Into the grave perhaps it goes:
Who knows the changes Fortune weaves?
For Lady Fortune mocks outright
At human nature′s dying pangs;
And if by you or me made tight
The rope, she laughs that some one hangs!