With history’s truths, or philosophic lore.
No charms for him has God’s all-blooming earth—
His only question this—“What are they worth?”
Art, nature, wisdom, are no match for gain;
And even religion bids him pause in vain.
Thomas Ward.
The miser comes, his heart to mammon sold—
His life, his hope, his god, his all is gold.
“To-morrow, and to-morrow,” he will say,
“Soul, take thine ease, for thou hast many a day