A Thought from Marcus Antoninus

What! shall the causeless curse of fools controul Thy wavering virtue, and debase thy soul! Reproach'd or censur'd as an useless thing, Still pure and constant flows the healing spring, Still pours its bounty with a sweet excess, Th' invidious tongue with cooling draughts to bless; Should thankless hands with clay pollute the tide, Will the stain'd waters stagnant cease to glide? No, still they flow, by flowing still refine, Diffuse new blessings, with new lustre shine. Taught by the spring, then bounteous be thy mind, By thanks unpaid, be generously kind. The streams of charity no taint can know 'Till stopp'd, refining ever as they flow.