Of Me Poem by William Bell Scott

Our grandsire poets often prayed
All the nine muses for their aid!
But I, who only wander round
Familiar ground,
By pleasant autumn hedges bound,—
Sure I can pray
For inspiration much more near;
My audience dear,
Assist me to a theme to-day!

You cannot help me? but I see
I have a readier prompter here,
The child is whispering in my ear,
‘Write a pretty thing of me!’
I will, you egotistic gnome,
The best is often nearest home.