TO BLESS, IS TO BE BLEST.
When young, what honest triumph flush’d my breast,
This truth once known,—To bless, is to be blest!
I led the bending beggar on his way;
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-grey;)
Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.
As in his script I dropp’d my little store,
I griev’d to think that little was no more;
He breath’d his pray’r,—“Long may such goodness live!”
’Twas all he gave, ’twas all he had to give.