Classic Poem

Though poor and mean the garland I bestow,
Though rude and halting these my votive rhymes,
Rehearsing ill what many thousand times
Has rung in countless voices high and low,
What every heart has known or yet will know
In all the ages and in all the climes,
Monotonous and old as Christmas chimes,
And oft repeated as the morning glow;
Yet deign to take the gift thy servant brings:
The power that taught him scorns not nor disdains
The rapture of the meanest bird that sings,
The rudest songster of the forest choir,
The love of all the ages in his strains,
And passion kindled at heaven's altar fire.