Not with the mighty to thy shrine I come, In anxious sighs, or self applauding mirth, On Mount Parnassus as thine heir to roam: I dare not credit that immortal birth; But mingling with the lesser ones on earth-- Like as the little lark from off its nest, Beside the mossy hill awakes in glee, To seek the morning’s throne a merry guest-- So do I seek thy shrine, if that may be, To win by new attempts another smile from thee. If without thee ’neath storms, and clouds, and wind, I’ve roam’d the wood, and field, and meadow lea; And found no flowers but what the vulgar find, Nor met one breath of living poesy, Among such charms where inspirations be; The fault is mine--and I must bear the lot Of missing praise to merit thy disdain. To feel each idle plea though urged, forgot; I can but sigh--though foolish to complain O’er hopes so fair begun, to find them end so vain. Then will it prove presumption thus to dare To add fresh failings to each faulty song, Urging thy blessings on an idle prayer, To sanction silly themes: it will be wrong For one so lowly to be heard so long. Yet, sweet Enchantress, yet a little while Forego impatience, and from frowns refrain; The strong are ne’er debarr’d thy cheering smile, Why should the weak, who need them most, complain Alone, in solitude, soliciting in vain? But if my efforts on thy harp prove true, Which bashful youth at first so feared to try; If aught of nature be in sounds I drew From hope’s young dreams, and doubt’s uncertainty, To these late offerings, not without their sigh; Then on thine altar shall these themes be laid, And past the deeds of graven brass remain, Filling a space in time that shall not fade; And if it be not so--avert disdain, Till dust shall feel no sting, nor know it toil’d in vain. SUMMER IMAGES Now swarthy Summer, by rude health embrowned, Precedence takes of rosy fingered Spring; And laughing Joy, with wild flowers prank’d, and crown’d, A wild and giddy thing, And Health robust, from every care unbound, Come on the zephyr’s wing, And cheer the toiling clown. Happy as holiday-enjoying face, Loud tongued, and “merry as a marriage bell,” Thy lightsome step sheds joy in every place; And where the troubled dwell, Thy witching charms wean them of half their cares: And from thy sunny spell, They greet joy unawares. Then with thy sultry locks all loose and rude, And mantle laced with gems of garish light, Come as of wont; for I would fain intrude, And in the world’s despite, Share the rude wealth that thy own heart beguiles; If haply so I might Win pleasure from thy smiles.