. These times strike monied worldlings with dismay: <br /> Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air <br /> With words of apprehension and despair: <br /> While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, <br /> Men unto whom sufficient for the day <br /> And minds not stinted or untilled are given, <br /> Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven, <br /> Are cheerful as the rising sun in May. <br /> What do we gather hence but firmer faith <br /> That every gift of noble origin <br /> Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath; <br /> That virtue and the faculties within <br /> Are vital,--and that riches are akin <br /> To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/october-1803/
