GIVE ME THE PEOPLE.
SOME love the glow of outward show,
The shine of wealth, and try to win it;
The house to me may lowly be,
If I but like the people in it.
What's all the gold that glitters cold,
When linked to hard and haughty feeling?
Whate'er we're told, the noblest gold
Is truth of heart and honest dealing!
A humble roof may give us proof
That simple flowers are often fairest;
And trees whose bark is hard and dark
May yield us fruit, and bloom the rarest!
There's worth as sure among the poor
As e'er adorned the highest station;
And minds as just as theirs, we trust,
Whose claim is but of rank's creation!
Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,
Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it;
The house to me may lowly be,
If I but like the people in it!
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