by Abraham L. Gruber
The roses red upon my neighbor's vine
Are owned by him, but they are also mine.
His was the cost, and his the labor too,
But mine as well as his the joy, their loveliness to view.
They bloom for me and are for me as fair
As for the man who gives them all his care.
Thus I am rich, because a good man grew
A rose-clad vine for all his neighbor's view.
I know from this that other's plant for me,
And what they own, my joy may also be.
So why be selfish, when so much that's fine
Is grown for you, upon your neighbor's vine.
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