Fair Charity, thou rarest, best, and brightest!
Who would not gladly hide thee in his heart,
With all thine angel-guests? for thou delightest
To bring such with thee,- never to depart;
Cherub, with what enticement thou invitest,
Perfect in winning beauty as thou art,
World-wearied man to plant thee in his bosom
And graft upon his cares thy balmy blossom.

Fain would he be frank-hearted, generous, cheerful,
Forgiving, aiding, loving, trusting ALL,-
But knowledge of his kind has made him fearful
All are not friends, whom friends he longs to call;
For prudence makes men cold, and misery tearful,
And interest bids them rise upon his fall,
And while they seek their selfish own to cherish,
They leave the wounded stag alone to perish.

Man may rejoice that thy sweet influence hallows
His intercourse with all he loves - in heaven:
But canst thou make him love his sordid fellows,
And mix with them untainted by their leaven?
How can he not grow cautious, cold, and callous,
When he forgives to seventy-times seven,
And still repeated wrongs, unwept for, harden
The heart that's never sued nor sought to pardon?

Reserve's cold breath has chill'd each warmer feeling,
Ingratitude has frozen up his blood,
Unjust neglect has pierced him, past all healing,
And scarr'd a heart that panted to do good;
Slowly, but surely, has distrust been steeling
His mind, much wronged, and little understood:
Would charity unseal affection's fountain?
Alas! 'tis crush'd beneath a marble mountain.

Yet the belief that he was loved by other
Could root and hurl that mountain in the sea,
Oblivion's depth the height of ill would smother,
And all forgiven, all forgotten be;
Man then could love his once injurious brother
With such a love as none can give but he;
The sun of love, and that alone, has power
To bring to bright perfection love's sweet flower.

Soft rains, and zephyrs, and warm noons can vanquish
The stubborn tyranny of winter's frost;
Once more the smiling valleys cease to languish,
Drest out in fresher beauties than they lost:
So springs with gladness from its bed of anguish
The heart that loved not, when reviled and crost,
But, once beloved,- oh then not once but often
Love's sunny smile the rockiest heart will soften.