I think of Scrooge McDuck, his cambered chest
where all his wealth and happiness are stored;
and think of those who’d just as soon divest
than profit from the bounty of the hoard.
O what meanness to reject these very
heaps of coruscating jewels and crowns
richly tumbling from the reliquary
and meet profusion with reproving frowns.
For bounty’s sake, let’s change the metaphor
and think of Lily, Pamela or Jane
who brim munificent with passion’s ore
and draw the sacred from the mere profane—
and wonder who in soundness could malign
such lovely words embreasted in the line.