BY nought but sorrow attended, I wander'd under the trees; That olden vision descended, And stole to my heart by degrees. Who taught you the word ye are singing, Ye birds in the branches on high? O hush! when my heart hears it ringing, It makes it more mournfully sigh. "A fair young maiden 'twas taught it, "Who came here, and sang like a bird; "And so we birds easily caught it, "That pretty, golden word." No more shall this story deceive me, Ye birds, so wondrously sly: Of my sorrow ye fain would bereave me, On your friendship I cannot rely. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BACCALAUREATE by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH THE SHAPE OF THE CORONER by WALLACE STEVENS THE BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE AGAINST THEM WHO LAY UNCHASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMAN by WILLIAM HABINGTON SONNET: AUTUMN by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |