People Liked Him

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 People liked him, not because 
 He was rich or known to fame; 
 He had never won applause 
 As a star in any game. 

 His was not a brilliant style, 
 His was not a forceful way, 
 But he had a gentle smile 
 And a kindly word to say. 

 Never arrogant or proud, 
 On he went with manner mild; 
 Never quarrelsome or loud, 
 Just as simple as a child; 

 Honest, patient, brave and true: 
 Thus he lived from day to day, 
 Doing what he found to do 
 In a cheerful sort of way. 

 Wasn't one to boast of gold 
 Or belittle it with sneers, 
 Didn't change from hot to cold, 
 Kept his friends throughout the years, 

 Sort of man you like to meet 
 Any time or any place. 
 There was always something sweet 
 And refreshing in his face. 

 Sort of man you'd like to be: 
 Balanced well and truly square; 
 Patient in adversity, 
 Generous when his skies were fair. 

 Never lied to friend or foe, 
 Never rash in word or deed, 
 Quick to come and slow to go 
 In a neighbor's time of need. 

 Never rose to wealth or fame, 
 Simply lived, and simply died, 
 But the passing of his name 
 Left a sorrow, far and wide. 

 Not for glory he'd attained, 
 Nor for what he had of pelf, 
 Were the friends that he had gained, 
 But for what he was himself.