Joseph Arch

"Men rough and rude pressed roundTo hear the praise of oneWhose heart was made of manly, simple stuff,As homespun as their own."

"Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,Their homely joys and destiny obscure;Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smileThe short and simple annals of the poor."

"Lest, when our latest hope is fled,Ye taste of our despair,And learn by proof in some wild hourHow much the wretched dare."