But what avail my feeble powers,
When softer notes descend in showers,
Mine are not worth regarding;
No honour'd title gilds my name,
No dulcet notes I e'er could claim;
So worthless I, you may obtain
_Two Sparrows_ for a farthing.

Besides, I ne'er was form'd to _sing_,
And so must soar on humbler wing,
Since nature saw it fitter;
But yet my feeble powers I'll try,
And sound my _chatt'ring_ notes on high,
For I am sure you'll not deny
To hear my simple _twitter_.

My gratitude is doubly due,
For all the hedges[2] in my view,
Afford a verdant cover;
I now can build my nest once more,
From childhood's prying glance secure,
And from the hawk's keen eye, tho' o'er
The sacred bush he hover.

Oh! had I Philomela's tongue,
The thrush's note, or warbling song
Of blackbird, lark, or linnet;
I'd then more gratitude display,
Striving to raise a sweeter lay,