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It is not the weight of jewel or plate,
Or the fondle of silk or fur;
'Tis the spirit in which the gift is rich,
As the gifts of the Wise Ones were,
And we are not told whose gift was gold,
Or whose was the gift of myrrh.

— Edmund Vance Cooke

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More quotes by Edmund Vance Cooke

The man who fears to go his way alone,
But follows where the greater number tread,
Should hasten to his rest beneath a stone;
The great majority of men are dead.

The rake upon a wanton wastes the wiles
Which dazzle innocence.
The nettle guards itself; the lily smiles
Unheedful of defence.

The Moo-cow-moo's got a tail like a rope
En it's ravelled down where it grows,
En it's just like feeling a piece of soap
All over the moo-cow's nose.

To deftly do what many dimly think;
To fund a feeling for the world to borrow;
To turn a tear to printer’s ink;
To make a sonnet of a sorrow.

This trouble seems to be
Chief in theology:
Each thinks the hymn should be,—
Nearer, my God, to Thee.

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Edmund Vance Cooke (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.