 | The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott
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TO G. C. HOLLAND, M.D.
Holland! thou lov'st the little songful lyre,
On which, well-pleased thy bidding to obey,
For the first time, I now attempt to play,
Fretting, with skill-less touch, the sonnet's wire.
Alas! the strings of this small harp require,
To bring forth half their worth, a master's hand!
Yet, as I wander through a lovely land,
And stop, at times, its marvels to admire,
May I not sing them too? Yea, while the breeze,
Sighing o'er moated grange, or castle bold,
Awakes the music of their ancient trees,
The lyre, beloved of bards whose fires re-cold,
That sweetest lyre I'll place before my knees,
And make my theme the wonders I behold.
| The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott
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