Classic Poem

Ever in his soul
That larger justice which makes gratitude
Triumphed above resentment. 'Tis the mark
Of regal natures, with the wider life,
And fuller capability of joy—
Not wits exultant in the strongest lens
To show you goodness vanished into pulp
Never worth “thank-you”—they're the devil's friars,
Vowed to be poor as he in love and trust,
Yet must go begging of a world that keeps
Some human property.