TO BLESS, IS TO BE BLEST.

When young, what honest triumph flush’d my breast, This truth once known,—To bless, is to be blest! I led the bending beggar on his way; (Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-grey;) Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. As in his script I dropp’d my little store, I griev’d to think that little was no more; He breath’d his pray’r,—“Long may such goodness live!” ’Twas all he gave, ’twas all he had to give.