 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
263
I was Born in a Cot.
1837.
I was born in a Cot, and in one I may die;
So lived and so perished my fathers obscure;
But no Peer of his lineage is prouder than I,
For my fathers were honest, and loyal, and poor!
So lived and so perished my fathers obscure;
But no Peer of his lineage is prouder than I,
For my fathers were honest, and loyal, and poor!
I envy not—covet not—title and sway;
Yet 'tis pleasant to think that to all they are free,
That—thanks to the laws of my country! the way
To her honours is open—ay, even to me.
Yet 'tis pleasant to think that to all they are free,
That—thanks to the laws of my country! the way
To her honours is open—ay, even to me.
I'm content to be part of society's root;
To find that the branches which over us wave,
Derive from us foliage, blossom, and fruit,—
And give us again all the strength that we gave.
To find that the branches which over us wave,
Derive from us foliage, blossom, and fruit,—
And give us again all the strength that we gave.
And never, when clamour and menace are loud
Against all that is noble, and all that is high,
Will I lend my voice to the cry of the crowd—
I know the result of that reasonless cry!
Against all that is noble, and all that is high,
Will I lend my voice to the cry of the crowd—
I know the result of that reasonless cry!
I know that the lightning their madness would lanch,
Though meant but to injure the loftiest shoots,
Conducted that instant from twig and from branch,
Would glance to, and shiver the trunk to the roots!
Though meant but to injure the loftiest shoots,
Conducted that instant from twig and from branch,
Would glance to, and shiver the trunk to the roots!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |