English poem
Humility
by Mathew Carey (1760–1839)
Would I had trod the humble path, and made My industry less ambitious: the shrub Securely grows, the tallest tree stands most In the wind; and thus we distinguish the Noble from the base: the noble find their Lives and deaths still troublesome: But humility doth sleep, whilst the storm Grows hoarse with scolding.
There are some that use Humility to serve their pride, and seem Humble upon their way, to be prouder At their wish'd journey's end.