Lines written after hearing some beautiful singing in a Convent Church at Rome. 88 If, Lady, at thy bidding, I have strung As on one thread these few unvalued beads, I cannot ask the world to count them pearls, Or to esteem them better than they are: But thou, I know, wilt prize them, for by thee Solicited, I have beguiled with these The enforcèd leisure of the present time, And dedicate of right my little book To thee, beloved--sure at least of this That if my verse has aught of good or true, It will not lack the answer of one heart-- And if herein it may be thou shalt find Some notes of jarring discord, some that speak A spirit ill at ease, unharmonised, Yet ’twere a wrong unto thyself to…
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