No genius, beauty, worth, nor wit,
No gold of earth, no gem of heaven
Is rich enough to purchase it.”
Alexander Smith.
Who is there in this world who has not, hidden
Deep in his heart, a picture, clear and faint,
Veiled, sacred, to the outer world forbidden,
O’er which he bends, and murmurs low, “My Saint?”
Be good, my dear, and let who will, be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them all day long;