Father Ryan's Poems (101)

    Better than grandeur¹, better than gold, Than rank and titles a thousand fold, Is a healthy body and a mind at ease, And simple pleasures that always please A heart that can feel for another's woe², With sympathies large enough to enfold All men as brothers, is better than gold.

    Better than gold is a conscience clear, Though toiling⁴ for bread in an humble⁵ sphere, Doubly blessed with content and health, Untried by the lusts⁶ and cares of wealth, Lowly living and lofty thought Adorn⁷ and ennoble a poor man's cot； For mind and morals in nature's plan Are the genuine tests of a gentleman.

    Better than gold is the sweet repose⁸ Of the sons of toil³ when the labors⁹ close； Better than gold is the poor man's sleep, And the balm that drops on his slumbers¹⁰ deep. Bring sleeping draughts¹¹ on the downy bed, Where luxury pillows its aching head, The toiler¹² simple opiate deems A shorter route to the land of dreams.

    Better than gold is a thinking mind, That in the realm of books can find A treasure surpassing Australian ore, And live with the great and good of yore. The sage's lore¹³ and the poet's lay, The glories of empires passed away； The world's great dream will thus unfold And yield a pleasure better than gold.

    Better than gold is a peaceful home Where all the fireside characters come, The shrine¹⁴ of love, the heaven of life, Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife. However humble the home may be, Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree, The blessings¹⁵ that never were bought or sold, And centre there, are better than gold.