Classic Poem

Went to Mount Vernon; and I wouldn't have lost
That trip, for fifteen hundred times its cost!
Those farm-lands sleeping in the autumn sun;
The house HE slept in when his work was done;
The trees he planted with his own brave hand.
That set out Freedom's trees, all o'er the land:
The humble tomb he lies in, which — like me —
Pilgrims from all the world have come to see:
These look up in one's eyes and sadly smile,
And preach a funeral sermon all the while!
Even the river-boats upon their way
Toll bells, as if he'd died that very day!
And through it all this precept may be traced:
The noblest men are simplest in their taste.

I've read how grand Napoleon's tomb is made,
And all the surface-honors to him paid;
But I don't think the people that come there
Bring any heartfelt sympathy to spare;
While every true-brained patriot, night and morn.
Thanks God for letting Washington be born!