(for a philanthropist)

Go not empty-hearted
Into the marts of men,
The brightest coin will darken
And lose its luster when
The hand that gives is loveless
And folds in pride again.

There is a spirit-hunger
Sharper than body’s need;
There is an infinite thirsting
For cups of wisdom’s mead;
While on the rim of laughter
A stricken heart may bleed.

With bread and cooling water
The body’s feast is spread;
Not so the straining spirit’s
That will be housed and fed
By love more than a roof-tree,
And lilies more than bread.

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