I gave a beggar from my little store
Of well-earned gold. He spent the shining ore
    And came again, and yet again, still cold
       And hungry, as before.

I gave a thought, and through that thought of mine
He found himself, the man, supreme, divine!
    Fed, clothed and crowned with blessings manifold.
       And now he begs no more.

Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902.

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