the Hand that makes the lily bloom

"It is not the man who has little, but he who desires more,  
that is poor."—Lucius Annaeus Seneca  

       behold the lily in the swamp,  
            how pure and bright she blooms!  
                 unfettered by stark stench and muck,  
                      great stature she assumes.  
                      her litheness every eye consumes,  
                 queens emulate her pluck;  
            her elegance stirs brides and grooms  
       to light their wedding lamp.  
     
                      behold the poor man in his dirt,  
                 his penury enlarged:  
            what hope has he, save passing luck  
       to his bad credit charged?  
       when on men's pity he has gorged,  
            oft with high contempt stuck,  
                 he bows his humble head, full scourged,  
                      hurt heaped upon more hurt.  
     
       the Hand that makes the lily bloom  
            despite her humble birth  
                 shall lift the poor from whence, death-struck,  
                      he trembles in the earth.  
                      for cometh after hell, his mirth,  
                where he has learnt to suck  
            his gall; nor shall he suffer dearth,  
       where scornful men face gloom.  
     
                  © Copyright 2022 December 21  
                           by Clyve A. Bowen♫