THE CENTURY OF LIFE
THE ALTRUIST
How rare is he who for his fellows cares! His mind, speech, body all are as pure jars Full of his soul’s sweet nectar; so he goes Filling the world with rows on shining rows Of selfless actions ranked like the great stars.
He loves man so that he in others’ hearts Finding an atom even of noble parts
Builds it into a mountain and thereon
His soul grows radiant like a flower full-blown; Others are praised, Ais mind with pleasure starts.
MOUNTAIN MOLOY
Legends of golden hills the fancy please,
But though they were real silver and solid gold, Yet are the trees they foster only trees.
Moloy shall have my vote with whom, ’tis told, Harbouring the linden, pine and basest thorn
Ennobled turn to scent and earth adorn.
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