With jewels and laces and rarest perfumes,
And wonderful webs from the Indian looms.
The price of the treasures is small, as they say;
For dollars and cents, are exchanged every day
The furs of the North-land, the silks of Cathay.
But, oh! the rare things which can never be brought
From the far-away countries, but still must be sought
Through working and waiting and anguish of thought!
The patience that comes to the heart, as it tries
To hear, through all discord and turbulent cries,