Dedication to Sarah, Countess of Jersey
On Beauty's smiles for selfish gain
The Bard is ever an encroacher,
Aware that happiest flows his vein
When most permitted to approach her.
When first the lark the morn adores
His strain is weak, his voice uneven,
But still improving as he soars,
He sweetest sings when nearest heaven!
The Bard is ever an encroacher,
Aware that happiest flows his vein
When most permitted to approach her.
When first the lark the morn adores
His strain is weak, his voice uneven,
But still improving as he soars,
He sweetest sings when nearest heaven!
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