The Hidden Rill
Across a pleasant field a rill unseen
Glides from a fountain, nor does aught betray
Its presence, save a tint of lovelier green,
And flowers that scent the air along its way.
Thus silently should charity attend
Those who in want's drear chambers pine and grieve;
No token should reveal the aid we lend,
Save the glad looks our welcome visits leave.
Glides from a fountain, nor does aught betray
Its presence, save a tint of lovelier green,
And flowers that scent the air along its way.
Thus silently should charity attend
Those who in want's drear chambers pine and grieve;
No token should reveal the aid we lend,
Save the glad looks our welcome visits leave.
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