Classic Poem

Let us rejoice that we are poor,
And have no gold to keep:
We do not need to bar the door
Ere we can go to sleep:
Who bars his door doth bar his mind,
And shuts it against human-kind;
Even the turning of a key
Contracts the mind's humanity.

We have no way of getting wealth,
And therefore should be glad;
For Mammon-worship might by stealth
Creep o'er us if we had:
And then our hearts could love no more
The beauteous things we love, and o'er
Our eyes would grow a golden rust,
Till we could nothing see but dust.

Gold wonderfully warps the mind;
It strangely shifts the light
That things hang in, turns almost blind
The pure and natural sight:
But naked truth and beauty lie
Unfolded to the poor man's eye.
Poverty keeps the vision pure:
Let us rejoice that we are poor.