Page:Poems Welby.djvu/67

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
59
Yet, thou, who art mine inspiration, thou,
For whose sweet praises still I strive to sing,
I will not murmur once, when, bending low,
At thy dear feet my broken harp I fling.
Well pleased if others think this song I send,
Though all unworthy praise, too simple to offend.