III
Your riches taught me poverty.Myself a millionnaireIn little wealths,—as girls could boast,—Till broad as Buenos Ayre,
You drifted your dominionsA different Peru;And I esteemed all poverty,For life’s estate with you.
Of mines I little know, myself,But just the names of gems,—The colors of the commonest;And scarce of diadems
So much that, did I meet the queen,Her glory I should know:But this must be a different wealth,To miss it beggars so.
I ‘m sure ‘t is India all dayTo those who look on youWithout a stint, without a blame,—Might I but be the Jew!
I ‘m sure it is Golconda,Beyond my power to deem,—To have a smile for mine each day,How better than a gem!
At least, it solaces to knowThat there exists a gold,Although I prove it just in timeIts distance to behold!
It ‘s far, far treasure to surmise,And estimate the pearlThat slipped my simple fingers throughWhile just a girl at school!