THOUGH singing but the shy and sweet <br />Untrod by multitudes of feet, <br />Songs bounded by the brook and wheat, <br /> I have not failed in this, <br />The only lure my woodland note, <br />To win all England’s whitest throat! <br />O bards in gold and fire who wrote, <br /> Be yours all other bliss!<br /><br />Norman Rowland Gale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/content/
