Page:Poems Angier.djvu/258

A certain esculent, they say,
On tables seen from clay to day;
Much like some families is found,
The better part is under ground.

To this opinion I incline,
And cheerfully the verdict sign;
E'en though oblivion's sullen wave
My name consign to nameless grave.

What though no human pen record
The lineage of peasant, lord?
A regal soul, and modest worth,
Far, far outweigh the pride of birth.

In yon blue arch, the tiniest star
That now gleams faintly from afar,
May in some constellation bright,
Reign King of Day or Queen of Night:

And souls who self have crucified,
Survive, when perish pomp and pride,—
Who toil for others, and for God,
Their memory blooms, like Aaron's rod;

And Phoenix-like, their very dust
Shall live, like him men called—"The Just."
For Christ-like heart, and Heaven-taught mind,
Nor chains, nor death, can hold or bind.