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To A Grecian Nymph
She thinks I’m a millionaire;
She thinks she’s right.
Is it what I say? What I wear?
What makes her think she’s right.


Full purses give no man wealth;
Lofty castles make no king merry;
But a clean mind does give health;
An open heart yields no worry.


The source of all wealth’s experience:
To reach down to every bottom,
To move about the universe
And sip straight out of its bosom.


Much have I seen, though not all;
Many have I known in my endless tour.
That’s where my wealth lies, my doll!
You see , I’m not even poor.


Millionaires sell freedom!
To satisfy your caprice,
And not to disappoint you, Madam,
My next stop might just be Greece.