Makes fitter music to our ears than any song of thine!

Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun.

While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine.

Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale,九*九*藏*書 is all thy sweetness done?

I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,

Said a people to a poet--- Go out from amonghttps://read.99csw.com us straightway!

And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there

The poet went out weeping---the nightingale ceased 九-九-藏-書chanting;

The poet went out weeping,---and died abroad, bereft there---

Was only of the poets song, and not the nightingales.

The bird flew to his grave and died, amid a thousand wails:---

Theres a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting in the gateways