There is a jewel

There is a jewel, which no Indian mines
Can buy, no chymic art can counterfeit,
It makes men rich in greatest poverty,
Makes water wine; turns wooden cups to gold;
The homely whistle, to sweet music’s strain.
Seldom it comes, to few from Heaven sent,
That much in little, all in nought content.

poem by John Wilbye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!