Unknown it is to me, who handed down <br />From sire to son mine humble family; <br />Whether they dwelt in low obscurity, <br />Or by achievements purchased high renown: <br />Whether with princely or baronial crown <br />Their brows were bound, or martyr--wreath of flame: <br />No glories mark the track through which my name <br />Hath come: I only know it as mine own. <br />Yet I am one of no mean parentage: <br />The poorest line of Christian ancestry <br />Might serve upon the world's unbounded stage <br />To act God's dealings: all mankind might see <br />More truth than now they know, were this my line <br />Of distant sires their evidence to join.<br /><br />Henry Alford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxxx-my-ancestors/
