Poem November 14, 1914 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Gratitude

MINNA MATHISON

A noble friend I had, who richly poured
Gifts, favors, gold upon me; and I throve
In all my ways. But when at length I strove
Him to repay from out my swelling hoard,
He stayed my eager hand; he shook his head,
And with a smile ineffable he said:
My gifts are free; I cannot take again
What I have given. Yet if thy heart be fain
Some recompense to make, and forth to show
Thy fervent gratitude, I bid thee go
Seek out thy brothers, to whom I am friend
Likewise, —although they know it not, —and spend
On them the treasure I have furnished thee, —
So shalt thou best repay thy debt to me.

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