Classic Poem

The pride that springs from high descent
May be no pride of mine;
My lowlier views are well content
To claim a humble line:
Fancy shall wing no daring flight,
And rear no lofty dome;
Ive-gill's small hamleTher delight,
Ive-gill her modest home

And now before my inward eye
I see a lowly vale;
The silent stars are in the sky,
And moonlight's lustre pale
Illumes its scatter'd cots and trees,
While with a tuneful song,
Louder and steadier than the breeze,
Ive gladly flows along.

The sun comes forth—the valley smiles
In morning's blithe array;
The song of birds the ear beguiles
From every glistening spray;
The bee is on her journey gone
To store her humble hive;
And still in music rolling on
Is heard the gladsome Ive.

In such a spot I love to dream
That ancestor of mine
Once dwelt, and saw on Ive's fair stream
The cloudless morning shine;
I love to trace back “kith and kin”
To air so fresh and free,
And cherish still an interest in
The bonnie North countrie.