Kind wishes and good deeds—they make not poor;
They’ll home again, full laden, to thy door.
The streams of love flow back where they begin;
For springs of outward joys lie deep within.
E’en let them flow, and make the places glad
Where dwell thy fellow-men, shouldst thou be sad,
And earth seems bare, and hours, once happy, press
Upon thy thoughts, and make thy loneliness
More lonely for the past, thou then shalt hear
The music of those waters running near;