Classic Poem

Ah , who shall Praise receive
—And not profane her?
Fool were I to believe,
—Churl to disdain her!

Praise is the kindly love
—Of all a nation,
Lifting the man above
—His lower station.

Praise is a mortal hate;
—In blood, not money,
He pays who takes the bait,
—Swallows the honey.

Imperial renown,
—How may I win thee?
Praise me, and I shall own
—The strength of ten within me.

Praise me, and I shall sink
—In shallow water;
Folly upon the brink,
—Vanity's daughter!

Alone they safely trod
—The flowery mazes
Who loved the praise of God
—More than man's praises.