Classic Poem

Some fifty years ago, I ween,
In Flora's vales, all rich and green,
There dwelt a man of sober mood
Who was not bad — who was not good;
And though his lands were rich and broad,
And he of many slaves was lord,
He yet did feel the common tie
That swells the heart and thrills the eye
Of all mankind, whate'er the state
Ordained them by all-ruling Fate.
And thus his rule was just and kind,
And did those closer to him bind
Who knew that though he was their chief
He sought to spare them needless grief.