With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others'

Fortune Is For All, Judgment Is Theirs Who Have Won It For Themselves.

When A Tongue Fails To Send Forth Appropriate Shafts, There Might Be A Word To Act As Healer Of These.

Still To The Sufferer Comes, As Due From God, A Glory That To Suffering Owes Its Birth.

Human Prosperity Never Rests But Always Craves More, Till Blown Up With Pride It Totters And Falls. From The Opulent Mansions Pointed At By All Passers-by None Warns It Away, None Cries, 'let No More Riches Enter!'.

With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.