Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/91

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Truths.
87
  If I scatter gold like a goblin,
   My life may yet be poor.
  Does Love come in at the window
   When Money stands at the door?
I am what I seem to men. Need I be any more?

  God sees from the high blue heaven,
   He sees the grape in the flower;
  He hears one's life-blood dripping
   Through the maddest, merriest hour;
He knows what sackcloth and ashes hide in the purple of power.

  The broken wing of the swallow
   He binds in the middle air;
  I shall be what I am in Paradise—
   So, heart, no more despair!
Remember the blessed Jesus, and wipe his feet with thy hair.