Poems (Larcom)/The Secret

by Lucy Larcom

THE SECRET.

WTHAT selfishness asked for
Was vain:
What came for that asking
   Brought pain.

Heaven's manna in keeping
   Was spoiled:
All beauty self-seeking
   Hath soiled.

Complacency blazoned
   Dull dross.
No gain came of hoarding,
   But loss.

Gain! none save the giver
   Receives.
Yet who that old gospel
   Believes?

Nor pauper nor beggar
   Then be;
Nor niggard of bounty
   Most free.

But one way is Godlike,—
   To give.
Then pour out thy heart's blood,
   And live!