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The Widow's Mites: Poem by Richard Crashaw

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Two mites, two drops, yet all her house and land,
Fall from a steady heart, though trembling hand :
The other's wanton wealth foams high, and brave ;
The other cast away, she only gave.

Analysis of this poem

More verses by Richard Crashaw

  • To The Noblest And Best Of Ladies, The Countess Of Denbigh
  • Satan
  • The Recommendation
  • Saint Mar Magdelene; Or, The Weeper
  • Two Went Up Into The Temple To Pray

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