true poverty

whoever thinks it’s enough, just, to mean well—
well then, he’s never any more than just mean;
meager are the sacrifices of the desolate;
only pity is the charm of the poorer mind—

you come under to stand what you don’t yet know;
but pure knowledge rises over, and so, high above—

now how much lower are those left taking instruction
when beside them are guardians of no guidance—

you won’t speak with just words,
so don’t teach just with meanings;
stronger feelings can cross oceans
yet never land with strong ground—

it takes two to go on, and on well-together—
just one is just tired and walks alone, however—

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