Honesty (continued)

The rich man claims it; but he often buys
Its substitute, that is not what it seems;
While Poverty, ennobled in disguise,
Its simple bloom oft worships and esteems.
Knaves boast possession, but they forge its name;
Mobs laud and praise it, but with them 'tis noise,
Or the mere passport to some hidden game,
Beneath whose garb Self-interest lurks, and lies.
'Tis by the good man only deemed a prize
Too valued to be scoffed at, or oppressed;
'Tis evermore respected by the wise,
Though thousands treat it as a common jest:
And that thou may'st not slight so grand a dower,
'Tis Honesty. Go thou, and wear the flower.