That Charity, really, not merely in fables,
May apparel herself in satins and sables,
And costliest ribbons, and fragilest laces,
Like the daintiest beauties of Madison Square,
And may take up a home in the loftiest places,
With those who’ve, satirically, Nothing to Wear?
And in that blissful realm above,
Where the poor and the rich meet in meekness and love:
Where the works of each heart are unveiled to the light,