by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I wist not that I had the pow'r to sing,
But here of late they say my songs are sweet.
Is it because my timid numbers ring
With love's warm music that doth ever beat
Its melody within my throbbing heart?
If so, what else can roguish Cupid do?
I know him master of the archer's art;
Is he a trained musician too?