I play at Riches — to appease
The Clamoring for Gold —
It kept me from a Thief, I think,
For often, overbold

With Want, and Opportunity —
I could have done a Sin
And been Myself that easy Thing
An independent Man —

But often as my lot displays
Too hungry to be borne
I deem Myself what I would be —
And novel Comforting

My Poverty and I derive —
We question if the Man —
Who own — Esteem the Opulence —
As We — Who never Can —

Should ever these exploring Hands
Chance Sovereign on a Mine —
Or in the long — uneven term
To win, become their turn —

How fitter they will be — for Want —
Enlightening so well —
I know not which, Desire, or Grant —
Be wholly beautiful —