Read it through once

“For me—unskilful to prolong The finely modulated song— Whose simple lay spontaneous flows As Nature charms, or feeling glows, Wild, broken, artless as the strains Of linnets on my native plains, And timid as the startled dove, Scared at each breeze that waves the grove; Still may that trembling verse have power To cheer the solitary hour, Of Spring’s life-giving beauties tell, Or wake at friendship’s call the spell. Enough to bless my simple lays, That music-loved Herbert deigned to praise.”