English poem
Honesty
by Mathew Carey (1760–1839)
The man who pauses on his honesty Wants little of the villain.
Be honesty our riches. Are we mean And humbly born? the true heart makes us noble. These hands can toil, can sow the ground and reap For thee and thy sweet babes; our daily labour Is daily wealth, it finds us bread and raiment. Could Danish gold do more?