It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met,
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
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What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale--
Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu, read more
What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale--
Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu, she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
read more
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence read more
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to they grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one.
Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one.
Hath thy heart within thee burned,
At evening's calm and holy hour?
Hath thy heart within thee burned,
At evening's calm and holy hour?
Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.
Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.
But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
read more
But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
Those purer fires on high.
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,
Of winter's past or coming void of care,
Well read more
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,
Of winter's past or coming void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present are,
Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers.
