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 stain to human sense in sin that lours,
What soul can be so sick which by thy songs
(Attired in sweetness) sweetly is not driven
Quite to forget earth’s turmoils, spites, and wrongs,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven?
Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost raise
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels’ lays.

(2 votes, average: 3.50 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 […]...

Sonnet to the Nightingale O nightingale that on yon blooming spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hopes […]...

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 […]...

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 […]...

Forget Not Yet Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant My great travail so gladly spent […]...

To The Nightingale Exert thy Voice, sweet Harbinger of Spring! This Moment is thy Time to sing, This Moment I attend to Praise, […]...

Ode To A Nightingale My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some […]...

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, […]...

Sonnet IV: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And […]...

The Nightingale No cloud, no relique of the sunken day Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip Of sullen light, no obscure […]...

Sonnet 4: Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thy self thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And […]...

Where Thou art that is Home Where Thou art that is Home Cashmere or Calvary the same Degree or Shame I scarce esteem Location’s Name So […]...

Sonnet IV Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing but doth lend, And being […]...

Ribblesdale Earth, sweet Earth, sweet landscape, with leavés throng And louchéd low grass, heaven that dost appeal To, with no tongue […]...

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 […]...

The Weeping Babe She kneels by the cradle Where Jesus doth lie; Singing, Lullaby, my Baby! But why dost Thou cry? The babes […]...

Sonnet 21 – Say over again, and yet once over again Say over again, and yet once over again, That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated Should seem ‘a […]...

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 […]...

Peace Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, […]...

To the Nightingale Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel! How many Bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye […]...

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 […]...

HIS COVENANT OR PROTESTATION TO JULIA Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an […]...

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 […]...

The Birds He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove, Tell me Fair One, tell me Love; Where thou thy charming nest dost […]...

The Reverend Mullineux I’d reckon his weight as eight-stun-eight, And his height as five-foot-two, With a face as plain as an eight-day clock […]...

The Temper (II) It cannot be. Where is that mighty joy, Which just now took up all my heart? Lord, if thou must […]...

To G. A. W Nymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance! In what diviner moments of the day Art thou most lovely?-when gone […]...

To The Nile Son of the old Moon-mountains African! Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile! We call thee fruitful, and that very while […]...

Sonnet 07 – The face of all the world is changed, I think The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move […]...

TO LIDA THE only one whom, Lida, thou canst love, Thou claim’st, and rightly claim’st, for only thee; He too is wholly […]...

Holy Sonnet XVII: Since She Whom I Loved Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead, […]...

The Nightingale NO easy matter ’tis to hold, Against its owner’s will, the fleece Who troubled by the itching smart Of Cupid’s […]...

A Villanelle O singer of Persephone! In the dim meadows desolate Dost thou remember Sicily? Still through the ivy flits the bee […]...

Land, Ho! I know ’tis but a loom of land, Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice, I know I […]...

The Chinese Nightingale A Song in Chinese Tapestries “How, how,” he said. “Friend Chang,” I said, “San Francisco sleeps as the dead- Ended […]...

The Sun Rising Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows and through curtains, call on us? Must to thy […]...

GROWTH O’ER field and plain, in childhood’s artless days, Thou sprang’st with me, on many a spring-morn fair. “For such a […]...

With Whom is no Variableness, Neither Shadow of Turning It fortifies my soul to know That, though I perish, Truth is so: That, howsoe’er I stray and range, Whate’er […]...

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 […]...

TO THE MOON BUSH and vale thou fill’st again With thy misty ray, And my spirit’s heavy chain Castest far away. Thou dost […]...