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One Of The Nameless Great
by [?]

I KNEW a man who died in days of yore,
To whom no monument is like to rise;
And yet there never lived a mortal more
Deserving of a shaft to pierce the skies.

His chiefest wish strong friendships was to make;
He cared but little for this poor world’s pelf;
He shared his joys with every one who’d take,
And kept his sorrows strictly to himself.