Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/50

Rh Than to be call'd rude churl and miser old. —I tell thee he's a friend, and Love, who sits So quiet in the corner, whispering long In beauty's ear, by the bright evening fire, Shall join my verdict. Yes, the King of Storms, So long decried, hath revenue more rich Than sparkling diamonds. Look within thy heart, When the poor shiver in their snow-wreath’d cell, Or the sad orphan mourns, and if thou find An answering pity, and a fervent deed Done in Christ's name, doubt not to be an heir Of that true wealth, which Winter hoardeth up To buy the soul a mansion with the blest.