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 Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
 To the inward ear devout,
  Touched by light, with heavenly warning
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 Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
 To the inward ear devout,
  Touched by light, with heavenly warning
   Your transporting chords ring out.
    Every leaf in every nook,
     Every wave in every brook,
      Chanting with a solemn voice
       Minds us of our better choice. 
 Where the nightingale doth sing
 Not a senseless, tranced thing,
  But divine melodious truth.  
 Where the nightingale doth sing
 Not a senseless, tranced thing,
  But divine melodious truth. 
 Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
 Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
  Up the hill-side; read more 
 Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
 Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
  Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
   In the next valley-glades:
    Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
     Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep? 
 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! 
 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. 
The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.
The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.
 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. 
I have head the nightingale herself.
I have head the nightingale herself.
 The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
 The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
  Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
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 The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
 The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
  Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
   That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
    Come, so ye wake the nightingale.