Classic Poem

The girl I love is lowly born;
She is not rich, she is not fair;
And yet her presence is to me
Like the breath of the morning air.

'Tis fresh with thoughts all innocent;
'Tis fragrant with the words of love;
And her eyes shed blessings, like the Dawn
Opening Heaven above.

For these and other things I love
The lowly love-born child of earth:
Scorn not: How many love for less
Than a thousandth part her worth!