O,
what a blessing it is to be poor;
No
burden the riches we have to endure;
Our
lockers from burglars are secure,
Because we are poor.
No
closeted skeletons grin at night;
No
powder beneath us ready to light;
No
masked highwaymen to give us a fright,
Because of our mite.
No
wealth for cousins to quarrel o’er,
Cursing
us soundly from bark to core,
Because
they didn’t get all, and more,
Of our hard-earned store.
O,
what a blessing it is, I say,
To
have no riches to guard each day;
No
numberless beggars to turn away,
No devil to pay.
Yes,
what a blessing it is to be poor;
A
blessing which thousands of mortals endure;
A
mighty poor blessing, you I can assure, –
How blessed are the poor!
April
15, 1895
Pub.
in Boston
Courier,
April 28,
1895
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