"Alas!" they sigh, "how sad her lot
Of poverty and loneliness!"
Yet hath she, though they know it not,
A crowd of friends her life to bless.
Fair memories and dainty dreams
Her spirit haunt by night and day;
And thoughts as pure as mountain-streams
Are friends unseen to cheer her way.
While he who holds an envied place—
The man of wealth and power and fame—
May bear a burden of disgrace,
Some secret load of care or shame.
And thus, however wise we be,
Our neighbors' lot we cannot tell,
Because the part that we can see
Is only just the outer shell!