Sonnet III: To a Nightingale

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1. Sonnet to the Nightingale O nightingale that on yon blooming spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hopes the Lover’s heart dost fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo’s bill, Portend success in love. O if […]...
2. The Sick Man and the Nightingale (From Lenau.) So late, and yet a nightingale? Long since have dropp’d the blossoms pale, The summer fields are ripening, And yet a sound of spring? O tell me, didst thou come to hear, Sweet Spring, that I should die this year; And call’st across from the far shore To me one greeting more?...
3. To The Nightingale Exert thy Voice, sweet Harbinger of Spring! This Moment is thy Time to sing, This Moment I attend to Praise, And set my Numbers to thy Layes. Free as thine shall be my Song; As thy Musick, short, or long. Poets, wild as thee, were born, Pleasing best when unconfin’d, When to Please is least […]...
4. To The Nightingale O Nightingale! that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover’s heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo’s bill, Portend success in love; O, if […]...
5. Sonnet LXXXII I grant thou wert not married to my Muse And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, And therefore art enforced to seek anew Some fresher stamp […]...
6. Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse I grant thou wert not married to my Muse, And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book. Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, And therefore art enforced to seek anew Some fresher stamp […]...
7. Wert Thou but ill that I might show thee Wert Thou but ill that I might show thee How long a Day I could endure Though thine attention stop not on me Nor the least signal, Me assure Wert Thou but Stranger in ungracious country And Mine the Door Thou paused at, for a passing bounty No More Accused wert Thou and Myself Tribunal […]...
8. To The Nightingale Sweet bird, that sing’st away the early hours Of winters past or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights which present are, (Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers) To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bowers Thou thy Creator’s goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee He did not spare: A […]...
9. Ode To A Nightingale My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: ‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In […]...
10. Sonnet XXVIII How can I then return in happy plight, That am debarr’d the benefit of rest? When day’s oppression is not eased by night, But day by night, and night by day, oppress’d? And each, though enemies to either’s reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture me; The one by toil, the other to complain […]...
11. Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight How can I then return in happy plight That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day’s oppression is not eased by night, But day by night, and night by day oppressed? And each, though enemies to either’s reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain […]...
12. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
13. Sonnet XLIX: Thou Leaden Brain Thou leaden brain, which censur’st what I write, And say’st my lines be dull and do not move, I marvel not thou feel’st not my delight, Which never felt’st my fiery touch of love. But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse serv’d, Whose stomach unto gall hath turn’d thy food, Whose senses, like poor […]...
14. 533. Song-Forlorn, my love, no comfort here FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near, Far, far from thee, I wander here; Far, far from thee, the fate severe, At which I most repine, Love. Chorus.-O wert thou, Love, but near me! But near, near, near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, And mingle sighs with mine, Love. Around me scowls a wintry […]...
15. Second Ode to the Nightingale BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE, Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale! Where oft I’ve heard thy dulcet strain In mournful melody complain; When in the POPLAR’S trembling shade, At Evening’s purple hour I’ve stray’d, While many a silken folded flow’r Wept on its couch of Gossamer, And many a time in pensive mood Upon […]...
16. Sonnet CXXXIV So, now I have confess’d that he is thine, And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I’ll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous and he is kind; He learn’d but surety-like to […]...
17. Sonnet 07 (to the rainbow) Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray Each in the other melting. Much mine eye Delights to linger on thee; for the day, Changeful and many-weather’d, seem’d to smile Flashing brief splendor thro’ its clouds awhile, That deepen’d dark anon and fell in […]...
18. Sonnet 04 – Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor, Most gracious singer of high poems! where The dancers will break footing, from the care Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more. And dost thou lift this house’s latch too poor For hand of thine? and canst thou think and bear To let thy music drop here […]...
19. SONNET OF AUTUMN THEY say to me, thy clear and crystal eyes: “Why dost thou love me so, strange lover mine?” Be sweet, be still! My heart and soul despise All save that antique brute-like faith of thine; And will not bare the secret of their shame To thee whose hand soothes me to slumbers long, Nor their […]...
20. Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine So, now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I’ll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still. But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous, and he is kind, He learned but surety-like […]...
21. Ode to the Nightingale SWEET BIRD OF SORROW! ­why complain In such soft melody of Song, That ECHO, am’rous of thy Strain, The ling’ring cadence doth prolong? Ah! tell me, tell me, why, Thy dulcet Notes ascend the sky. Or on the filmy vapours glide Along the misty moutain’s side? And wherefore dost Thou love to dwell, In the […]...
22. Songs of Joy Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy; Sing as a happy bird will sing Beneath a rainbow’s lovely arch In the spring. Think not of death in thy young days; Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear? And fear him not when thou art old, And he is near. Strive not for gold, for […]...
23. LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK. [Written on the occasion of the death, by drowning, Of the Prince.] THOU wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river, Holding thee, ever he shares with thee his streaming domain, Calmly sleepest thou near his urn as it silently trickles, Till thou to action art roused, waked by […]...
24. The Nightingale No cloud, no relique of the sunken day Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues. Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge! You see the glimmer of the stream beneath, But hear no murmuring: it flows silently. O’er its soft bed of verdure. All is still. […]...
25. Love's Nearness I think of thee, when golden sunbeams shimmer Across the sea; And when the waves reflect the moon’s pale glimmer, I think of thee. I see thy form, when down the distant highway The dust-clouds rise; In deepest night, above the mountain by-way, I see thine eyes. I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning Loudly […]...
26. Tezcotzinco Though thou art now a ruin bare and cold, Thou wert sometime the garden of a king. The birds have sought a lovelier place to sing. The flowers are few. It was not so of old. It was not thus when hand in hand there strolled Through arbors perfumed with undying Spring Bare bodies beautiful, […]...
27. Sonnet 17 – My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes God set between his After and Before, And strike up and strike off the general roar Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats In a serene air purely. Antidotes Of medicated music, answering for Mankind’s forlornest uses, thou canst pour From thence into their ears. […]...
28. The Irish Peasant to his Mistress Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer’d my way, Till hope seem’d to bud from each thorn that round me lay; The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love burn’d, Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turn’d; Yes, slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt free, […]...
29. Sonnet 30 – I see thine image through my tears to-night I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How Refer the cause?-Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, […]...
30. The Nightingale NO easy matter ’tis to hold, Against its owner’s will, the fleece Who troubled by the itching smart Of Cupid’s irritating dart, Eager awaits some Jason bold To grant release. E’en dragon huge, or flaming steer, When Jason’s loved will cause no fear. Duennas, grating, bolt and lock, All obstacles can naught avail; Constraint is […]...
31. 555. Song-O wert thou in the cauld blast O WERT thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee; Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a’, to share it a’. Or were I in the […]...
32. Sonnet XX A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling, […]...
33. To the Nightingale Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel! How many Bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell’d mud, And listen to the drowsy cry of Watchmen (Those hoarse unfeather’d Nightingales of Time!), How many wretched Bards address thy name, And hers, the full-orb’d Queen that […]...
34. Oh Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast Oh wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee; Or did misfortune’s bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a’, to share it a’. Or were I in the […]...
35. The Chinese Nightingale A Song in Chinese Tapestries “How, how,” he said. “Friend Chang,” I said, “San Francisco sleeps as the dead- Ended license, lust and play: Why do you iron the night away? Your big clock speaks with a deadly sound, With a tick and a wail till dawn comes round. While the monster shadows glower and […]...
36. Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low And soonest […]...
37. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
38. Sonnet XXXVII: Dear, Why Should You Dear, why should you command me to my rest When now the night doth summon all to sleep? Methinks this time becometh lovers best; Night was ordain’d, together friends to keep; How happy are all other living things Which through the day disjoin by sev’ral flight, The quiet ev’ning yet together brings, And each returns […]...
39. The Nightingale's Nest Up this green woodland-ride let’s softly rove, And list the nightingale – she dwells just here. Hush! let the wood-gate softly clap, for fear The noise might drive her from her home of love ; For here I’ve heard her many a merry year- At morn, at eve, nay, all the live-long day, As though […]...
40. Sonnet 20: A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, […]...