GOD MADE ME POOR.

God made me poor — am I to blame?

And shall I bow my head

As though it were some dreadful shame

I had inherited?

Shall I among the rich and great

Like trembling culprit stand,

Or like obedient servant wait

To do their least command?

And when they pass me by in scorn —

As they have often done,—

Shall I regret that I was born

An humble farmer's son?

No! should it ever cause a sigh

This were indeed a shame;

For all unworthy then were I

To bear my father's name.

I'll pay to all the homage due

Whatever rank they hold;

But to my manhood ever true,

I will not bow to gold,