Classic Poem

I wear no badge; no tinsel star
Glitters upon my breast;
Nor jewelled crown nor victor's car
Rob me of rest.

I am not poor, but I am proud
Of one inalienable right,
Above the envy of the crowd—
Thought's holy light.

Better it is than gems or gold,
And oh! it cannot die,
But thought will glow when the Sun grows cold,
And mix with Deity.