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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.
The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.
The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.
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.
I said to the Nightingale:
"Hail, all hail!
Pierce with thy trill the dark,
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I said to the Nightingale:
"Hail, all hail!
Pierce with thy trill the dark,
Like a glittering music-spark,
When the earth grows pale and dumb."
Yon nightingale, whose strain so sweetly flows,
Mourning her ravish'd young or much-loved mate,
A soothing charm read more
Yon nightingale, whose strain so sweetly flows,
Mourning her ravish'd young or much-loved mate,
A soothing charm o'er all the valleys throws
And skies, with notes well tuned to her and state.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend read more
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love.
Hark! that's the nightingale,
Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
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Hark! that's the nightingale,
Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
So echoes answered when her song was sung
In the first wooded vale.
Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
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Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark!--what pain!
. . . .
Again--thou hearest?
Eternal passion!
Eternal pain!
Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods read more
Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among,
I woo, to hear thy even-song.