IN the wood, the verdure's shooting, Joy-oppress'd, like some fair maiden; Yet the sun laughs sweetly downward: "Welcome, young spring, rapture-laden!" Nightingale! I hear thee also, Piping, blissful-sad and lonely, Sobbing tones and long-protracted, And thy song of love is only! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ACCOUNTABILITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE GREAT SAINT BERNARD by SAMUEL ROGERS STILL FALLS THE RAIN; THE RAIDS, 1940. NIGHT AND DAWN by EDITH SITWELL ON A VOLUME OF ANONYNOUS POEMS ENTITLED A MASQUE OF POETS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WORLD'S WAY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LILIES: 5. ETERNAL MURMURINGS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SO I MAY FEEL THE HANDS OF GOD by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH MY MISTRESS COMMANDING ME TO RETURN HER LETTERS by THOMAS CAREW THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE WIFE OF BATH'S PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |