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¶ Of Poverty.
NO stony Walls can make a Jayl,
Though Iron-bars do it surround;
Confinement cannot make him vayl,
That with Contentments doth abound.
Men are Trees of one spacious Grove:
The greatest men do seem the tallest;
But Grace makes little Trees improve,
Sweet favour lies in those are smallest.
A poor man may be Godly-wise,
And sin may make a rich man poor:
The silent Lamb's the Sacrifice,
Whilst Lions proudly live and roar.
The Dove, that Bird of Innocence,
Before the soaring Eagle's chose,
That we may justly learn from thence,
Humility to Heaven goes.
Lazarus poor, diseased lay
In misery, Earth was his Hell;
Yet he to Abram found the way,
And Dives went in flames to dwell.
The rich man's title and his name
To learn, men con them o're and o're;
But they more glory have, less shame,
That study to relieve the Poor.
He that at present lives in state,
Above the reach of worldly wrong,
May in another world relate
He wants a drop to cool his tongue.
The Poor are pious Usurers;
For having lost their earthly leaven,
Their God, with Interest, confers
Glorious rewards on them in Heaven.
Rich men delight to count their Gold,
'Tis pastime for their minde and eye:
Content is happiness (in hold)
Such pleasure is in Poverty.