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Rail then no more at gold, for plain to view
Behold an antidote and poison too:
Oh save the shining metal from abuse,
And the heart turns it to a social use!

43

The widow, orphan, and ten thousand more,
Prove that no dross need hang about the ore;
Prove, that this glittering treasure may dispense
The sterling joys of pure benevolence,
While from the golden reservoir may flow
The richest streams of sympathy below.