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'Tis the merry nightingale
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
read more
'Tis the merry nightingale
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!
Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
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Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark!--what pain!
. . . .
Again--thou hearest?
Eternal passion!
Eternal pain!
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,
So poets live upon the living light.
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,
So poets live upon the living light.
Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one.
Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one.
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
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As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made.
What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale--
Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu, read more
What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale--
Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu, she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
The read more
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many thing by season seasoned are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend read more
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love.
