Classic Poem

Wyndham! 'tis not thy blood, tho' pure it runs,
Thro' a long line of glorious ancestry,
Percys and Seymours, Britain's boasted sons,
Who trust the honors of their race to thee:

'Tis not thy splendid domes, where Science loves
To touch the canvas, and the bust to raise;
Thy rich domains, fair fields, and spreading groves,
'Tis not all these the Muse delights to praise:

In birth, and wealth, and honors, great thou art!
But nobler in thy independent mind;
And in that liberal hand and feeling heart
Given thee by Heaven — a blessing to mankind!
Unworthy oft may titled fortune be;
A soul like thine — is true Nobility!