Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I gave a beggar of my little store
Of well-earned gold. He spent the shining ore
And came a gain, and yet again, still cold
And hungry as before.

I gave a thought, and through that thought of mine
He found himself, the man, supreme, divine!
Fed, clothed, and crowned with blessings manifold.
And now he begs no more.

------Ella Wheeler Wilcox------