Home ⇒ 📌John Milton ⇒ Sonnet to the Nightingale
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 Jove’s will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh;
As thou from year to year hast sung too late
For my relief, yet had’st no reason why.
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- 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 […]...
- Sonnet 01 I O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray Warbl’st at eeve, when all the Woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the Lovers 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 Cuccoo’s bill Portend success in love; O […]...
- 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?...
- Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love, thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou […]...
- Sonnet III: To a Nightingale Poor melancholy bird – that all night long Tell’st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe; From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow, And whence this mournful melody of song? Thy poet’s musing fancy would translate What mean the sounds that swell thy little breast, When still at dewy eve thou leav’st […]...
- About The Nightingale From a letter from STC to Wordsworth after writing The Nightingale: In stale blank verse a subject stale I send per post my Nightingale; And like an honest bard, dear Wordsworth, You’ll tell me what you think, my Bird’s worth. My own opinion’s briefly this His bill he opens not amiss; And when he has […]...
- 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. […]...
- 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 […]...
- TO HIS SAVIOUR, A CHILD;A PRESENT, BY A CHILD Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known. When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon his bib or stomacher; And tell him, for good handsel too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of […]...
- 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 […]...
- Sonnet X: Reason Reason, in faith thou art well serv’d, that still Wouldst brabbling be with sense and love in me: I rather wish’d thee climb the Muses’ hill, Or reach the fruit of Nature’s choicest tree, Or seek heav’n’s course, or heav’n’s inside to see: Why shouldst thou toil our thorny soil to till? Leave sense, and […]...
- Sonnet C Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song, Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem In gentle numbers time so idly spent; Sing to the ear that doth thy […]...
- Sonnet XXXVIII: Sitting Alone, Love Sitting alone, Love bids me go and write; Reason plucks back, commanding me to stay, Boasting that she doth still direct the way, Or else Love were unable to endite. Love, growing angry, vexed at the spleen And scorning Reason’s maimed argument, Straight taxeth Reason, wanting to invent, Where she with Love conversing hath not […]...
- Sonnet 02: Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane; But last […]...
- Sonnet CI O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say ‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix’d; Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay; But […]...
- Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song, Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem In gentle numbers time so idly spent; Sing to the ear that doth thy […]...
- Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say, “Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay, But […]...
- That time of year thou mayst in me behold (Sonnet 73) That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see’st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by […]...
- Sonnet LXXIII That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by […]...
- A Hymn To God The Father Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which is my sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more. Wilt thou forgive that sin by which I […]...
- Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold That time of year thou mayst in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by […]...
- Sonnet CL O, from what power hast thou this powerful might With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and […]...
- 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 […]...
- Sonnet 150: O from what power hast thou this powerful might O, from what power hast thou this powerful might With insufficiency my heart to sway? To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and […]...
- Early Nightingale When first we hear the shy-come nightingales, They seem to mutter o’er their songs in fear, And, climb we e’er so soft the spinney rails, All stops as if no bird was anywhere. The kindled bushes with the young leaves thin Let curious eyes to search a long way in, Until impatience cannot see or […]...
- Sonnet I THE partial Muse, has from my earliest hours, Smil’d on the rugged path I’m doom’d to tread, And still with sportive hand has snatch’d wild flowers, To weave fantastic garlands for my head: But far, far happier is the lot of those Who never learn’d her dear delusive art; Which, while it decks the head […]...
- A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada Now the declining sun ‘gan downwards bend From higher heavens, and from his locks did send A milder flame, when near to Tiber’s flow A lutinist allay’d his careful woe With sounding charms, and in a greeny seat Of shady oake took shelter from the heat. A Nightingale oreheard him, that did use To sojourn […]...
- Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent How can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse? O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me Worthy perusal stand against thy sight, For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee, When thou […]...
- Sonnet 39 – Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace Because thou hast the power and own’st the grace To look through and behind this mask of me (Against which years have beat thus blanchingly With their rains), and behold my soul’s true face, The dim and weary witness of life’s race,- Because thou hast the faith and love to see, Through that same soul’s […]...
- Sonnet – To Science Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art! Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise, Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering To seek for treasure in the jewelled […]...
- Sonnet XVII: Stay, Speedy Time To Time Stay, speedy Time, behold, before thou pass, From age to age what thou hast sought to see, One in whom all the excellencies be, In whom Heav’n looks itself as in a glass. Time, look thyself in this tralucent glass, And thy youth past in this pure mirror see, As the world’s beauty […]...
- Sonnet to William Wilberforce, Esq Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, Hears thee, by cruel men and impious, call’d Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose th’ enthrall’d From exile, public sale, and slav’ry’s chain. Friend of the poor, the wrong’d, the fetter-gall’d, Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain! Thou hast achiev’d a part; hast gain’d the ear […]...
- 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 […]...
- Sonnet XXXVI: Thou Purblind Boy Cupid Conjured Thou purblind boy, since thou hast been so slack To wound her heart, whose eyes have wounded me, And suffer’d her to glory in my wrack, Thus to my aid I lastly conjure thee: By hellish Styx, by which the Thund’rer swears, By thy fair mother’s unavoided power, By Hecate’s names, by Proserpine’s […]...
- Sonnet LII: What? Dost Thou Mean What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart? To take all mine and give me none again? Or have thine eyes such magic or that art That what they get they ever do retain? Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse; Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity’s sake; Or, cruel, if […]...
- 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 […]...
- 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 […]...
- 539. Song-O that's the lassie o' my heart O WAT ye wha that lo’es me And has my heart a-keeping? O sweet is she that lo’es me, As dews o’ summer weeping, In tears the rosebuds steeping! Chorus.-O that’s the lassie o’ my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O she’s the queen o’ womankind, And ne’er a ane to peer her. If thou […]...
- Sonnet 12 – Indeed this very love which is my boast Indeed this very love which is my boast, And which, when rising up from breast to brow, Doth crown me with a ruby large enow To draw men’s eyes and prove the inner cost,- This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, I should not love withal, unless that thou Hadst set me an […]...
- Sonnet 09 IX Lady that in the prime of earliest youth, Wisely hath shun’d the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labour up the Hill of heav’nly Truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth, Chosen thou hast, and they that overween, And at thy growing vertues fret their […]...