Classic Poem

Ne'er trow ye wealth is happy aye, or poverty aye wae;
Ne'er hope to find the brichtest flowers aye on the highest brae;
In humble hames are happy hearts, in dells are flow'rets fair;
Around the muirland lammie plays the balmy summer air,
And He wha tends the lammie, keeps us a' aneath his ee,
The balance aye is fairly poised atween the low and hie.

Out frae the low dark breast o' yirth, there springs celestial fire,
Sae men should aye lout laigher doun the hie'er they aspire;
The darkest cluds are fringed wi' gowd, sae when ye look aboon,
And frae the deep blue lift ye see the bright stars keekin' donn,
Aye mind that light and darkness differ only to agree,
That ae strang chain o' love is linkit round baith low and hie.

The genial voice o' Nature chants in harmony divine;
The glorious lights o' heaven glow wi' kindness as they shine,
The dark brown earth gi'es brightness to each little flower that blows,
And a' creation's contrasts deepest unities disclose;
Sae think nae mair o' spite or spleen whatever your degree,
But gi'e a gratefu' heart to Him wha rules baith low and hie.