Classic Poem

II 2

Though countless as the Grains of Sand
That roll at Eurus loud Command;
Though countless as the lamps of night
That glad us with vicarious light;
Fair plenty gracious Queen shou'd pour
The blessings of a golden Show'r
Not all the gifts of Fate combin'd
Would ease the hunger of the mind,
But swallowing all the mighty Store,
Rapacity would call for more;
For still where wishes most abound
Unquench'd the thirst of gain is found
In vain the shining Gifts are sent,
For none are rich without content.