THIS is my brave singer, With his beak of gold; Now my heart's a captive In his song's sweet hold. O, the lark's a rover, Seeking fields above: But my serenader Hath a human love. "Hark!" he says, "in winter Nests are full of snow, But a truce to wailing, Summer breezes blow. "Hush!" he sings, "with night-time Phantoms cease to be, Join your serenader Piping on his tree." O, my little lover, Warble in the blue; Wingless must I envy Skies so wide for you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A RENUNCIATION by EDWARD DE VERE THE WAKING YEAR by EMILY DICKINSON EVENING SONG OF THE TYROLESE PEASANTS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS JOURNEY by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TO QUILCA; A COUNTRY HOUSE IN NO GOOD REPAIR by JONATHAN SWIFT |