| |
| A LOWLY roof of simple thatch,— | |
| No home of pride, of pomp, and sin,— | |
| So freely let us lift the latch, | |
| The willing latch that says, “Come in.” | |
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| Plain dwelling this! a narrow door, | 5 |
| No carpet by soft sandals trod, | |
| But just for peasant’s feet a floor,— | |
| Small kingdom for a child of God! | |
| |
| Yet here was Scotland’s noblest born, | |
| And here Apollo chose to light; | 10 |
| And here those large eyes hailed the morn | |
| That had for beauty such a sight! | |
| |
| There, as the glorious infant lay, | |
| Some angel fanned him with his wing, | |
| And whispered, “Dawn upon the day | 15 |
| Like a new sun! go forth and sing!” | |
| |
| He rose and sang, and Scotland heard,— | |
| The round world echoed with his song, | |
| And hearts in every land were stirred | |
| With love, and joy, and scorn of wrong. | 20 |
| |
| Some their cold lips disdainful curled; | |
| Yet the sweet lays would many learn; | |
| But he went singing through the world, | |
| In most melodious unconcern. | |
| |
| For flowers will grow, and showers will fall, | 25 |
| And clouds will travel o’er the sky; | |
| And the great God, who cares for all, | |
| He will not let his darlings die. | |
| |
| But they shall sing in spite of men, | |
| In spite of poverty and shame, | 30 |
| And show the world the poet’s pen | |
| May match the sword in winning fame. | |
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