The Greatest Hardship Of Poverty Is That

For He, Who Gave This Vast Machine To Roll, Breathed Life In Then, In Us A Reasoning Soul; That Kindred Feelings Might Our State Improve, And Mutual Wants Conduct To Mutual Love.

Drooping Along The Ground The Vine Misses Its Widowed Elm.

Conscience, The Executioner, Shaking Her Secret Scourge.

Rarely They Rise By Virtue's Aid Who Lie Plunged In The Depth Of Helpless Poverty.

We Deem Those Happy Who, From The Experience Of Life, Have Learned To Bear Its Ills, Without Being Overcome By Them.