Did not my Muse (what can she less?) <br />Perceive her own unworthiness, <br />Could she by some well-chosen theme, <br />But hope to merit your esteem, <br />She would not thus conceal her lays, <br />Ambitious to deserve your praise. <br />But should my Delia take offence, <br />And frown on her impertinence, <br />In silence, sorrowing and forlorn, <br />Would the despairing trifler mourn, <br />Curse her ill-tuned, unpleasing lute, <br />Then sigh and sit for ever mute. <br />In secret therefore let her play, <br />Squandering her idle notes away <br />In secret as she chants along, <br />Cheerful and careless in her song; <br />Nor heeds she whether harsh or clear <br />Free from each terror, every fear, <br />From that, of all most dreaded, free, <br />The terror of offending thee.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-apology-for-not-showing-her-what-i-had-wrote/
