My Gift

Our only purpose, as we live,
   Is something of ourselves to give
To others, as they pass nearby--
   But what give I?

The painter paints for all to see,
   The singer gives a melody,
The rich upon cash gifts rely--
   But what give I?

I have no talents, large or small,
   Nor have I wealth, it seems that all
I have is love that cannot die--
   And this give I.

A picture's cold when paints are dry,
   And songs and poems are heard, then
      die.
There is no peace that wealth can buy--
   Still, what give I?

The art and riches fade away,
   All tangible belongings stray;
I learn that but one gift will live--
   The love I give!

--Dorothy Lee