There’s no such thing as judging a man by the way he appears.
Yes, you may well say “failed;” there’s more than the term implies,
When all there is of a man in a hopeless ruin lies.
To come after twenty years of a stubborn up-hill strife,
It isn’t a business smash so much as a failure in life.
Gold was always his god—he’d nothing else in his soul;
Money, for money’s sake, was ever his ultimate goal.
A “self-made man” they styled him, for low and poor he began;
But now his money has vanished, and what is left of the man?
He had no eye for beauty, for literature no taste;