So runs the edict of this moral age

That we rise up to make all wrongs a right,

Thus in our doing, vile offense assuage

That all who view shall see us as contrite.

Here many do portray a righteous mask

Oft giving alms as so to mantle sin

And courting virtue, heft a hollow cross

While piety cloaks venal acts therein.

When goodness does but good, it sanctifies;

True virtue’s thought alone can cleanse the soul.

A vow of poverty full dignifies—

Yet those disciples often tread alone.

What moral standard in a good is found,

When gifts of pennies front the theft of pounds?