It is not the weight of jewel or plate, Or the fondle of silk or fur; 'Tis the spirit in which the gift is rich, As the gifts of the Wise Ones were, And we are not told whose gift was gold |
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with a smiling face, It's nothing against you to fall down flat But to lie there -- that's a disgrace. |