With skirmish and capricious passagings,

The evening star: and once when he awoke

But never elsewhere in one place I knew

Of his own sorrows) he and such as he

Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.

And he beholds the moon, and hushd at once

His little hand, the small fore?nger up,

By sun or moonlight, to the in?uxes

I hurried with him to our orchard plot,

And you, my friends! farewell, a short farewell!

Should share in natures immortality,

On blosmy twig still swinging from the breeze,

As if one quick and sudden Gale had swept

--But some night-wandering Man, whose heart was piercd

Should make all nature lovelier, and itself

Full fain it would delay me!--My dear Babe,

And to that motion tune his wanton song,

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day

Who dwelleth in her hospitable home

A melancholy Bird? O idle thought!

His love-chant, and disburthen his full souread.99csw.coml

That gladden the green earth, and we shall ?nd

Come, we will rest on this old mossy Bridge!

In nature there is nothing melancholy.

First namd these notes a melancholy strain;

We have been loitering long and pleasantly,

Hath heard a pause of silence: till the Moon

Glides thro the pathways; she knows all their notes,

(Even like a Lady vowd and dedicate

When he had better far have stretchd his limbs

And of his fame forgetful! so his fame

To make him Natures playmate. He knows well

Lights up her love-torch.

But hear no murmuring: it ?ows silently

Oer its soft bed of verdure. All is still,

In wood and thicket over the wide grove

You may perchance behold them on the twigs,

And bid us listen! And I deem it wise

(And so, poor Wretch! ?lld all things with himself

Many a Nightingale perch giddily

That gentle Maid! and oft, a moments space,

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A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.

In most distressful mood (some inward pain

Forget it was not day! On moonlight bushes,

With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,

Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths.

An hundred airy harps! And she hath watchd

Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements

And the trim walks are broken up, and grass,

Who, capable of no articulate sound,

Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,

Had made up that strange thing, an infants dream)

Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip

Poet, who hath been building up the rhyme

A most gentle maid

Hard by the Castle, and at latest eve,

Sweet Nightingale! once more, my friends! farewell.

Farewell, O Warbler! till to-morrow eve,

And many a poet echoes the conceit,

Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs

Familiar with these songs, that with the nread.99csw.comight

That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates

With one sensation, and those wakeful Birds

To something more than nature in the grove)

Yet let us think upon the vernal showers

It is a fathers tale. But if that Heaven

As he were fearful, that an April night

And hark! the Nightingale begins its song,

How he would place hiｈｔｔｐｓ://rｅaｄ•99ｃsw.coms hand beside his ear,

Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full,

Whose dewy lea?ts are but half disclosd,

Of sullen Light, no obscure trembling hues.

He may associate Joy! Once more farewell,

And one low piping sound more sweet than all--

Who lose the deepning twilights of the spring

What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,

Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up

My Friend, and my Friends Sister! we have learnt

And joyance! Tis the merry Nightingale

A venerable thing! and so his song

Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell

Or slow distemper or neglected love,

Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,

Would be too short for him to utter forth

In ball-rooms and hot theatres, they still

That should you close your eyes, you might almost

Emerging, hath awakend earth and sky

Stirring the air with such an harmony,

And now for our dear homes.--That strain九_九_藏_書 again!

Glistning, while many a glow-worm in the shade

Mars all things with his imitative lisp,

This grove is wild with tangling underwood,

And youths and maidens most poetical

"Most musical, most melancholy"[1] Bird!

Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well--

Of large extent, hard by a castle huge

Which the great lord inhabits not: and so

So many Nightingales: and far and near

Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song

With fast thick warble his delicious notes,

Natures sweet voices always full of love

A balmy night! and tho the stars be dim,

And murmurs musical and swift jug jug

They answer and provoke each others songs--

You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,

While his fair eyes that swam with undropt tears

Of all its music! And I know a grove

Oer Philomelas pity-pleading strains.

And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale

Be lovd, like nature!--But twill not be so;