Classic Poem

They speak to me of princely Tyre,
That old Phaenician gem,
Great Sidon's daughter of the north;
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

They speak of Rome and Babylon, —
What can compare with them?
So let them praise their pride and pomp;
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

They praise the hundred-gated Thebes,
Old Mizraim's diadem,
The city of the sand-girt Nile,
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

They speak of Athens, star of Greece,
Her hill of Mars, her Academe;
Haunts of old wisdom and fair art,
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

Dear city, where heaven met with earth,
Whence sprang the rod from Jesse's stem.
Where Jacob's star first shone; — of thee
I'll speak, O happy Bethlehem!