Classic Poem

Oft I turn from dazzling pleasures,
Pompous pageants, splendid sights,
To my dear domestic treasures,
Fireside joys, and home delights.

Seated near the book-strewn table,
Which a shaded lamp illumes,
Reck I not of wealth unstable,
Broad domains, or spacious rooms.

But I pore, in mute reflection,
O'er some mighty master's line;
And I con, with deep affection,
Loving looks, that speak to mine.

Printed leaves, ye are my blessing!
Friends, ye are my wealth and pride!
Your true thoughts and hearts possessing,
What to me the world beside?

Sharing not the wordy quarrel
For a thorny crown of power —
Struggling not to win a laurel
Frailer than the summer flower:

In secluded paths of duty,
Only by the humble trod,
Live I, blest with dreams of beauty —
Hope for man, and trust in God!