Classic Poem

Out of this life I shall never take
Things of silver and gold I make.
All that I cherish and hoard away
After I leave, on this earth must stay.
Though I have toiled for a painting rare
To hang on the wall, I must leave it there.
Though I call it mine, and boast its worth
I must give up when I leave this earth.
All that I gather, and all that I keep
I must leave behind when I fall asleep.
And I often wonder what I shall own
In that other life, when I pass alone.
What shall they find, and what
Shall they see, in the soul that
Answers the call for me?
Shall the great judge learn
When my task is through,
That my spirit has gained some riches too?
Or shall at last, it be mine to find
That all I'd worked for is left behind?