Let misers keep their gold, kings keep their power,
And petty princelings hug the chains of pride,
Place-hunters flaunt the triumph of an hour,
Which Time’s myrmidons swiftly shall divide!
I claim no part or place within the train
Of pageantry, or aught that pageant gives —
Nor join in vain Te Deums o’er the slain,
Or hope that dies, or recreant faith that lives!
But in the larger life which circles all,
From lowest unto highest, brake nor bound
Shall keep mine own from me, or steal withal,
Or rival claimants baffle or confound!
My right to live, not to myself alone;
My right to toil for that which others share;
My right to bring to Truth’s white altar stone
Heart’s incense of high thought, and lay it there;
My right to oneness with the souls that dare
For Right’s dear sake the Tyrant’s beck and nod,
To lead the listless legions of despair
By paths of nobler fellowship to God;
Life’s wine, heart’s treasure — these mine own shall be,
Gift of the years, all other gifts above!
Live pulsing hearts, warm human sympathy!
Let misers keep their gold — my gold is Love.
Marie E. J. Pitt, The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses, Melbourne: Specialty Press, 1911, page 84