Again I welcome the familiar pen;
Again I sit me down to think and write;
Fairly and free should flow my fancies when
So fair a subject calls me to indite.
And thou, O Muse, whose gracious fingers oft,
And ne’er, I trust, in vain, have beckoned me,
Grant that thy spirit, breathing numbers soft,
May now descend to aid thy humblest votary.
So, when the lark, in fullest tide of song,
Makes sudden pause amidst his music clear,