Classic Poem

He wasn't rich; he wasn't great,
His place was lowly and obscure,
His clothing was not up-to-date,
His house was tumble-down and poor.
No special honor did he claim.
He never walked with lords and kings.
No glory has illumed his name,
But he was kind to helpless things.

He won no victories to boast.
He made no conquests, waged no strife.
He never led a conquering host;
He lived an unpretentious life.
But, when is writ the judgment scroll,
And Time its final verdict brings,
This will be said of him: his soul
Was rich in love for helpless things.