The nightingale has a golden heart, And a silver heart the wren; But, oh, for me the bold, bright bird That sings with the heart of men! His music is not of seas forlorn, His magic is not of tears; From tilted throat his raptures float And tumble in laughter and jeers. He does not cease when daylight dies, But he sings right on to the dark; The stars or moon may die or swoon, In the drip of the rain -- O hark! He does not cease when spring is done, And his mate with love is fled; A fairer thing than love or spring Is life. And the fall is red. Sing, nightingales and silver wrens And fairy throats that can; But the bird I love is the darling bird With the free, proud heart of a man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH THOUGHTS OF A TINY PIG by DAVID IGNATOW I WANT TO LIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SEPULCHRE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TEARS AND KISSES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |