Money and Wealth

You're right—

234

You're right—"the way is narrow"—
And "difficult the Gate"—
And "few there be"—Correct again—
That "enter in—thereat"—


'Tis Costly—So are purples!
'Tis just the price of Breath—
With but the "Discount" of the Grave—
Termed by the Brokers—"Death"!


And after that—there's Heaven—
The Good Man's—"Dividend"—
And Bad Men—"go to Jail"—
I guess—

When Diamonds are a Legend

397

When Diamonds are a Legend,
And Diadems-a Tale-
I Brooch and Earrings for Myself,
Do sow, and Raise for sale-


And tho' I'm scarce accounted,
My Art, a Summer Day-had PatronsOnce-
it was a Queen-
And once-a Butterfly-

What would I give to see his face?

247

What would I give to see his face?
I'd give-I'd give my life-of course-
But that is not enough!
Stop just a minute-let me think!
I'd give my biggest Bobolink!
That makes two-Him-and Life!
You know who "June" isI'd
give her-
Roses a day from Zanzibar-
And Lily tubes-like WellsBees-
by the furlong-
Straits of Blue
Navies of Butterflies-sailed thro'-
And dappled Cowslip Dells-


Then I have "shares" in Primrose "Banks"-
Daffodil Dowries-spicy "Stocks"Dominions-
broad as Dew-
Bags of Doublons-adventurous Bees
Brought me-from firmamental seas-
And Purple-from Peru


Now-have I bought it"
Shylock"? Say!
Sign me the Bond!
"I vow to pay
To Her-who pledges this-
One hour-of her Sovereign's face"!
Ecstatic Contract!
Niggard Grace!
My Kingdom's worth of Bliss!

Smiling back from Coronation

385

Smiling back from Coronation
May be Luxury-
On the Heads that started with usBeing's
Peasantry-

Recognizing in Procession
Ones We former knew-
When Ourselves were also dusty-
Centuries ago-

Had the Triumph no Conviction
Of how many beStimulated-
by the Contrast-
Unto Misery-

Reverse cannot befall

395

Reverse cannot befall
That fine Prosperity
Whose Sources are interior-
As soon-Adversity

A Diamond-overtake
In far-Bolivian Ground-
Misfortune hath no implement
Could mar it-if it found-

Publication


Publication -- is the Auction
Of the Mind of Man --
Poverty -- be justifying
For so foul a thing

Possibly -- but We -- would rather
From Our Garret go
White -- Unto the White Creator --
Than invest -- Our Snow --

Thought belong to Him who gave it --
Then -- to Him Who bear
Its Corporeal illustration -- Sell
The Royal Air --

In the Parcel -- Be the Merchant
Of the Heavenly Grace --
But reduce no Human Spirit
To Disgrace of Price --

No matter—now—Sweet

704

No matter—now—Sweet—
But when I'm Earl—
Won't you wish you'd spoken
To that dull Girl?


Trivial a Word—just—
Trivial—a Smile—
But won't you wish you'd spared one
When I'm Earl?


I shan't need it—then—
Crests—will do—
Eagles on my Buckles—
On my Belt—too—


Ermine—my familiar Gown—
Say—Sweet—then
Won't you wish you'd smiled—just—
Me upon?

My Reward for Being, was This

343

My Reward for Being, was This.
My premium-My Bliss-
An Admiralty, less-
A Sceptre-penniless-
And Realms-just Dross-

When Thrones accost my Hands-
With "Me, Miss, Me"I'll
unroll Thee-
Dominions dowerless-beside this GraceElection-
Vote-
The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.

It would have starved a Gnat

612

It would have starved a Gnat-
To live so small as I-
And yet I was a living Child-
With Food's necessity

Upon me-like a Claw-
I could no more remove
Than I could coax a Leech away-
Or make a Dragon-move-

Not like the Gnat-had I-
The privilege to fly
And seek a Dinner for myself-
How mightier He-than I-

Nor like Himself-the Art
Upon the Window Pane
To gad my little Being out-
And not begin-again-

It was given to me by the Gods

454

It was given to me by the Gods-
When I was a little Girl-
They given us Presents most-you know-
When we are new-and small.
I kept it in my Hand-
I never put it down-
I did not dare to eat-or sleep-
For fear it would be gone-
I heard such words as "Rich"-
When hurrying to school-
From lips at Corners of the Streets-
And wrestled with a smile.
Rich! 'Twas Myself-was rich-
To take the name of Gold-
And Gold to own-in solid Bars-
The Difference-made me bold-

It dropped so low in my regard

It dropped so low in my regard
I heard it hit the ground,
And go to pieces on the stones
At bottom of my mind;

Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less
Than I reviled myself
For entertaining plated wares
Upon my silver shelf.

I never told the buried gold

11

I never told the buried gold
Upon the hill-that lies-
I saw the sun-his plunder done
Crouch low to guard his prize.

He stood as near
As stood you here-
A pace had been between-
Did but a snake bisect the brake
My life had forfeit been.

That was a wondrous booty-
I hope 'twas honest gained.
Those were the fairest ingots
That ever kissed the spade!

Whether to keep the secret-
Whether to reveal-
Whether as I ponder
Kidd will sudden sail-

Could a shrewd advise me
We might e'en divide-
Should a shrewd betray me-
Atropos decide!

I made slow Riches but my Gain

843

I made slow Riches but my Gain
Was steady as the Sun
And every Night, it numbered more
Than the preceding One

All Days, I did not earn the same
But my perceiveless Gain
Inferred the less by Growing than
The Sum that it had grown.

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells

460

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells—
Deep dug—for Summer days—
Where Mosses go no more away—
And Pebble—safely plays—


It's made of Fathoms—and a Belt—
A Belt of jagged Stone—
Inlaid with Emerald—half way down—
And Diamonds—jumbled on—


It has no Bucket—Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy—
I'm often thirsty—but my lips
Are so high up—You see—


I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People "thirst no more"—
The Wells have Buckets to them there—
It must mean that—I'm sure—


Shall We remember Parching—then?
Those Waters sound so grand—
I think a little Well—like Mine—
Dearer to understand—

I had been hungry all the years-

I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.


'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.


I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.


The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.


Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.

I gained it so

359

I gained it so-
By Climbing slow-
By Catching at the Twigs that grow
Between the Bliss-and me-
It hung so high
As well the Sky
Attempt by Strategy-

I said I gained itThis-
was all-
Look, how I clutch it
Lest it fall-
And I a Pauper go-
Unfitted by an instant's Grace
For the Contented-Beggar's face
I wore-an hour ago-

Finding is the first Act

870

Finding is the first Act
The second, loss,
Third, Expedition for
The "Golden Fleece"

Fourth, no Discovery-
Fifth, no Crew-
Finally, no Golden FleeceJason-
sham-too.

All forgot for recollecting

966

All forgot for recollecting
Just a paltry One-
All forsook, for just a Stranger's
New Accompanying-

Grace of Wealth, and Grace of Station
Less accounted than
An unknown Esteem possessingEstimate-
Who can-

Home effaced-Her faces dwindledNature-
altered smallSun-
if shone-or Storm-if shattered-
Overlooked I all


Dropped-my fate-a timid Pebble-
In thy bolder SeaProve-
me-Sweet-if I regret it-
Prove Myself-of Thee-

A Tongue—to tell Him I am true!

400

A Tongue—to tell Him I am true!
Its fee—to be of Gold—
Had Nature—in Her monstrous House
A single Ragged Child—


To earn a Mine—would run
That Interdicted Way,
And tell Him—Charge thee speak it plain—
That so far—Truth is True?


And answer What I do—
Beginning with the Day
That Night—begun—
Nay—Midnight—'twas—
Since Midnight—happened—say—


If once more—Pardon—Boy—
The Magnitude thou may
Enlarge my Message—If too vast
Another Lad—help thee—


Thy Pay—in Diamonds—be—
And His—in solid Gold—
Say Rubies—if He hesitate—
My Message—must be told—


Say—last I said—was This—
That when the Hills—come down—
And hold no higher than the Plain—
My Bond—have just begun—


And when the Heavens—disband—
And Deity conclude—
Then—look for me. Be sure you say—
Least Figure—on the Road—

A Planted Life-diversified

806

A Planted Life-diversified
With Gold and Silver Pain
To prove the presence of the Ore
In Particles-'tis when

A Value struggle-it exist-
A Power-will proclaim
Although Annihilation pile
Whole Chaoses on Him-

What I Have Seen #4

I saw a youth, one of God's favored few,
Crowned with beauty, and talents, and health;
He had climbed the steep pathway, and cut his way through
To the summit of glory and wealth.
The day is breaking, hearts are waking,
Refreshed for the field of labor:
Arise, arise, like the king of the skies,
With a greeting for friend and neighbor.


He had toiled hard for the honors he'd won,
He had climbed over high rocks, forded streams;
Braved the bleak winter snow, the hot summer sun,
He was reaching the goal of his dreams.
The day hangs around us, the sun hath bound us
With fetters silken and yellow:
Flow, flow away, fleeting day,
Golden-hearted and mellow.


I saw the youth lift a mug to his mouth,
Drink the last drop of the fearful first glass!
Ah! his veins thrill in a fierce, scorching drouth,
He fills it again, again drinks it! alas!
The day is dying, hearts are sighing,
Crushed with a weight of sorrow:
Sleep, oh! sleep, in a slumber deep,
And wait for a bright to-morrow.


I saw him low in the dust at my feet,
Gone beauty, health, wealth, strength, talents, all;
From the summit of Fame to the slime of the street,
He had bartered his soul for the fiend Alcohol.
The night hangs o'er us, the wind's wild chorus
Shrieks like a demons' revel:
Weep, sob, weep, for the fog is deep,
And the world is sold to the devil.

The Yellow-Covered Almanac

I left the farm when mother died and changed my place of dwelling
To daughter Susie’s stylish house right on the city street:
And there was them before I came that sort of scared me, telling
How I would find the town folks’ ways so difficult to meet;
They said I’d have no comfort in the rustling, fixed-up throng,
And I’d have to wear stiff collars every weekday, right along.

I find I take to city ways just like a duck to water;
I like the racket and the noise and never tire of shows;
And there’s no end of comfort in the mansion of my daughter,
And everything is right at hand and money freely flows;
And hired help is all about, just listenin’ to my call –
But I miss the yellow almanac off my old kitchen wall.

The house is full of calendars from the attic to the cellar,
They’re painted in all colours and are fancy like to see,
But in this one in particular I’m not a modern feller,
And the yellow-covered almanac is good enough for me.
I’m used to it, I’ve seen it round from boyhood to old age,
And I rather like the jokin’ at the bottom of the page.

I like the way its ‘S’ stood out to show the week’s beginning,
(In these new-fangled calendars the days seem sort of mixed) ,
And the man upon the cover, though he wa’n’t exactly winnin’,
With lungs and liver all exposed, still showed how we are fixed;
And the letters and credentials hat was writ to Mr. Ayer
I’ve often on a rainy day found readin’ pretty fair.

I tried to buy one recently; there wa’n’t none in the city!
They toted out great calendars, in every shape and style.
I looked at them in cold disdain, and answered ‘em in pity –
‘I’d rather have my almanac than all that costly pile.’
And though I take to city life, I’m lonesome after all
For that old yellow almanac upon my kitchen wall.

Rich And Poor

By the castle-gate my lady stands,
Viewing broad acres and spreading lands.


Hill and valley and mead and plain
Are all her own, with their wealth of grain.


In the richest of rich robes she is dressed,
A jewel blazes upon her breast;


And her brow is decked with a diadem
That glitters with many a precious gem.


But what to the Lady Wendoline
Rich satin garments or jewels fine?


Or ripening harvests, or spreading lands-
See! she is wringing her milk-white hands!


And her finger is stained with crimson dew
Where the ring with the diamond star cut through.


And a look of pain and wild despair
Rests on the face, so young and fair.


To-morrow will be her bridal day,
And she will barter herself away


For added wealth and a titled name;
'Tis the curse of her station, and whose the blame!


She loathes the man who will call her wife,
And moans o'er her hapless, loveless life.


The joys of wooing she cannot know;
My lord, her father, has willed it so.


She's a piece of merchandise, bought and sold
For name, position, and bags of gold.


But people must wed in their own degree,
Though hearts may break in their agony.


Under the hill, in the castle's shade,
At a cottage door sits an humble maid;


In her cheek the blushes come and go
As she stitches away on a robe like snow;


And she sings aloud in her happiness-
In a joy she cannot hide or repress.


Close at her side her lover stands,



Watching the nimble, sun-browned hands


As they draw the needle to and fro
Through the robe as white as drift of snow.
Both hearts are singing a wordless lay,


For the morrow will be their bridal day.


They have only their hands, their love, their health,
In place of title, position, and wealth.
But which is the rich, and which the poor,


The maid at the gate, or the maid in the door?

Poverty And Wealth

The stork flew over a town one day,
And back of each wing an infant lay;
One to a rich man’s home he brought,
And one he left at a labourer’s cot.
The rich man said, ‘My son shall be
A lordly ruler o’er land and sea.’
The labourer sighed, ‘’Tis the good God’s will
That I have another mouth to fill.’
The rich man’s son grew strong and fair,
And proud with the pride of a millionaire.
His motto in life was, ‘Live while you may, ’
And he crowded years in a single day.
He bought position and name and place,
And he bought him a wife with a handsome face.
He journeyed over the whole wide world,
But discontent his heart lay curled
Like a serpent hidden in leaves and moss,
And life seemed hollow and gold was dross.
He scoffed at woman, and doubted God,
And died like a beast and went back to the sod.
The son of the labourer tilled the soil,
And thanked God daily for health and toil.
He wedded for love in his youthful prime,
And two lives chorded in tune and time.
His wants were simple, and simple his creed,
To trust God fully: it served his need,
And lightened his labour, and helped him to die
With a smile on his lips and a hope in his eye.
When all is over and all is done,
Now which of these men was the richer one?