Classic Poem

There came an ancient man and slow
— Who piped his way along our street —
How could the neighbors' children know
— That to her ears 'twas passing sweet?

With smiles they spoke the ragged kilt,
— And jeered the pipes, in mirthful file;
But, strangely moved, she heard the lilt
— That rallied Carrick and Argyle.

A stroller, playing in the street,
— Half-hearted, weary, out of place —
But his old measure stirred her feet,
— My baby with the Gaelic face:

She squared her shoulders as she stood
— To watch the piper 'round the turn —
Nor dreamed what beat within her blood
— Was Robert Bruce and Bannockburn!