Well I remember how the nightingale, That linger'd in the genial South so long, Made his sweet trespass, broke his ancient pale, And brought into the North his wondrous song. But, when I thought to hear his first sweet bar, He sang a mile away: I could not seek His chosen haunt, for I was faint and weak: Alas! I cried, so near and yet so far: Kind nature gathered all the sounds I love About my window; lowings of the kine, The thrush, the linnet, and the cooing dove; But out, alas! how should I not repine, When, scarce a mile beyond my garden grove, The night-bird warbled for all ears but mine? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAPHRASE ON THOMAS A KEMPIS by ALEXANDER POPE SCHOOL AND SCHOOLFELLOWS; FLOREAT ETONA by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED THE LADY'S DRESSING ROOM by JONATHAN SWIFT TWILIGHT AT SEA by AMELIA B. WELBY THE DAUGHTER OF THE BLIND by ANNE M. F. ANNAN UNCLE OUT O' DEBT AN' OUT O' DANGER by WILLIAM BARNES SONG OF THE SATYRS TO ARIADNE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A WHITE NIGHT by MATHILDE BLIND HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 30 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |