Poems (Osgood)/None are Poor
NONE ARE PO0R
Alas! for the gay, who in gorgeous array,
And chariots of pride, to God's altars are roll'd:
They would turn from a love-breathing seraph away
If he came not apparell'd in purple and gold!
And chariots of pride, to God's altars are roll'd:
They would turn from a love-breathing seraph away
If he came not apparell'd in purple and gold!
She stood 'mid the splendid insignia of wealth;
But the jewels that shone o'er her beauty and bloom
But the jewels that shone o'er her beauty and bloom
Were less fair than the sunny ray, smiling by stealth
Through the rose-tinted damask that shaded the room!
Through the rose-tinted damask that shaded the room!
In the flash of her glance there was passion and pride,
In the curve of her lip there was haughty contempt,
As she spoke of the power to riches allied
Of the evil and pain from which she was exempt.
In the curve of her lip there was haughty contempt,
As she spoke of the power to riches allied
Of the evil and pain from which she was exempt.
Another stood by, with a soul in her eye,
Out-glowing in lustre the sun-ray and gem;
And a fount in that soul of warm feeling and high,
Whose least emanation was worth all of them.
Out-glowing in lustre the sun-ray and gem;
And a fount in that soul of warm feeling and high,
Whose least emanation was worth all of them.
She had pass'd thro' the shadow and sunlight of life,
She had learn'd in its storms to exult and endure;
And her gentle reply with sweet wisdom was rife—
"To me there are none in the universe—poor!"
She had learn'd in its storms to exult and endure;
And her gentle reply with sweet wisdom was rife—
"To me there are none in the universe—poor!"