(@3To his wife Procne, the nightingale@1) DEAR comrade, arise, from slumber awake, let flow the sad rapture of hallowed song; mindful of Itys, ever-wept, sing on, tell again old tales of your sorrow and mine. There's a throbbing in air as the heavenly cry of your brown bright throat travels up, flung clear through the bryony-leaf skyward to high-throned Zeus in his heaven. To the sorrowful sound golden Apollo gives ear, and a sweet response strikes out on his ivoried lute. Ranged round to his will celestial choirs in unison chant, giving out from lips immortal a sound loud-voiced, of all heaven acclaiming. (@3A pipe-solo follows, representing the nightingale.@1) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EPITAPH UPON HUSBAND AND WIFE WHO DIED AND WERE BURIED by RICHARD CRASHAW SONNET: ADDRESSED TO HAYDON (1) by JOHN KEATS THE HOUSE-TOP; A NIGHT PIECE by HERMAN MELVILLE SEVERUS TO TIBERIUS GREATLY ENNUYE by JOSEPH AUSLANDER S. JOHN BAPTIST by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LOOSED DRYAD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 81 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT OF FIVE DAYS OLD by ELIZABETH BOYD THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE FOUNT OF TRUTH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |