Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | ||
XIV.
He dug his heart a cruel ditch,Because his parents made him rich!
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He quoted wealth in every clause!
And though he sowed his seeds with art,
Yet, thorns imparadised his heart!
For who, that leaves the tares to grow,
But reaps his harvest all of wo?
The dove that pecks the frugal hand,
That would bestow her fledglings food,
Must fly away from land to land,
To gather that not half so good!
But no one fed that hungry dove,
Till angels took her home above!
Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | ||