 | Letters of Laura D'Auverne |  |
84
WHEN THE PURSE IS FULL.
Oh! happy are the hours when the purse is full;
Time passes over flowers when the purse is full;
Where'er our fancy wends,
We are sure to meet with friends,
And there's nothing that offends—when the purse is full!
Time passes over flowers when the purse is full;
Where'er our fancy wends,
We are sure to meet with friends,
And there's nothing that offends—when the purse is full!
But weary are the hours when the purse is low,
And few and far the flowers when the purse is low;
Where'er our footsteps range
Comes the chilling breath of change,
And the best of friends look strange when the purse is low!
And few and far the flowers when the purse is low;
Where'er our footsteps range
Comes the chilling breath of change,
And the best of friends look strange when the purse is low!
Morn cometh with a dance when the purse is full;
There is music in her glance when the purse is full;
Life then is something worth,—
There is pleasure upon earth,—
There is beauty, song, and mirth—when the purse is full!
There is music in her glance when the purse is full;
Life then is something worth,—
There is pleasure upon earth,—
There is beauty, song, and mirth—when the purse is full!
85
Yet man, we're often told, though his purse be low,
Is himself the truer gold, though his purse be low;
But the saying is not true,
For the blindest yet may view,
Man's friends are of the few—when his purse is low!
Is himself the truer gold, though his purse be low;
But the saying is not true,
For the blindest yet may view,
Man's friends are of the few—when his purse is low!
| Letters of Laura D'Auverne | |