Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/25

Rh But this man's heart, with rich emotions teeming,
 * Makes fine the gold for which he coins his brain.

But richer still than gold from upright labor—
 * The only gold that should have standard price—

Is the poor earning of our humble neighbor,
 * Whose every coin is red with sacrifice.

Mere store of money is not wealth, but rather
 * The proof of poverty and need of bread.

Like men themselves is the bright gold they gather
 * It may be living, or it may be dead.

It may be filled with love and life and vigor,
 * To guide the wearer, and to cheer the way;

It may be corpse-like in its weight and rigor,
 * Bending the bearer to his native clay.

There is no comfort but in outward showing
 * In all the servile homage paid to dross;

Better to heart and soul the silent knowing
 * Our little store has not been gained by loss.