Yet, if so humble my native place,
This I can say, in family pride--
That I'm of the world's most numerous race,
And made by the Maker of all beside.
Although I'm so poor, I naught to lose;
Still I'm so little I can't be lost!
I journey about, wherever I choose,
And those who carry me bear the cost.
The most forgiving of earthly things,
I often cling to my deadly foe;
And, spite of the cruellest flirts and flings,
Arise by the force that has cast me low.
When beauty has trodden me under foot,
I've quietly risen, her face to seek,--
Embraced her forehead, and calmly put
Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek.
I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume;
But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,--
The sights of horror--of fire and fume;
And fled on the wings of the wind away.
I've visited courts, and been ushered in
By the proudest guest of the stately scene;
I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin,
And the nuptial ring of his lofty queen.
At the royal board, in the grand parade,
I've oft been one familiar and free:
The fairest lady has smiled, and laid
Her delicate, gloveless hand on me.
Philosopher, poet, the learned, the sage,
Never declines a call from me;
And all, of every rank and age.
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