GHASTLY contrast, God's grim joke! Here's a man who, on a morn, Very weary, hopeless, spoke: "I am out of work, and scorn, Want and ugliness are mine." So this creature, made divine (So they tell us) simply shot His weak brains out -- there's your plot! Nothing in it, say you? Stale? True, 'tis but a common tale, But the story gives me pause For a moment's space, because This poor breaker of God's laws Bore the name of -- Nightingale! Somewhere in the years behind, When men's names were first assumed -- Tinker Tom or John the Smith, Handier to travel with -- Somebody was this assigned: Nightingale . . . Belike there bloomed On his cheek the badge of health And he had, instead of wealth, Music for his gift, could sing, Play the fiddle, lead the folk Down the jolly dancing-ring; Make them thus forget their yoke, In some village . . . long ago. Merry lad, who far and wide Up and down the countryside Piped before the people so! Thus, the name bespoke the man. Latterly there came a change In this very pretty plan And a name meant naught at all. Taylors sat within the Hall, Kings in hovels -- passing strange! Time's inexorable jest Mocked the high and blurred the best. So with Nightingale, -- he fell From his pristine grove and -- well, Found himself in songless hell. Heigho, how the world is run! Morn of glory, night of shame, Worms that crawl from out a bud. Every day 'twixt sun and sun Some poor devil's singing name Is wiped out in city mud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST THE SUICIDE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE ALTAR by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FACADE: 24. AN OLD WOMAN LAMENTS IN SPRINGTIME by EDITH SITWELL DEXTER GORDON: COPENHAGEN/AVERY FISHER HALL by KAREN SWENSON |