Excerpt from Songs of Love and War You wonder, my friend, why so seldom I print The fanciful thoughts which I weave into verse; You flatter my Muse by your delicate hint Of fame in the future, of gold in my purse You ask why I write, if but few are to read; Yo'u talk of the wasting of talent and time; I covet not fame, am accustomed to need, And men do not Offer their riches for rhyme. Consider the lark! How he rises on wing, And mounts to the sky through ethereal air! He sings as he soars; 'tis his nature to sing To warble his notes though no listener be near I seek not for fortune, I sigh not for fame, I follow my Muse into forest, or street; In sorrow, in gladness, I sing all the same, I sing because singing itself is so sweet. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.