On Being Thanked for a Favor

Tempt not with cheap words chivalrously given
Hope's secret blasphemy to half rebel
Like a lost soul that trespasses in heaven
Where the still glories scorch him more than hell

You have no right with generous jesting terms
To make your poor friend drunken as with wine,
No right to tell one of God's honest worms
That he has helped the noonday sun to shine.
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