King David was a sorrowful man: No cause for his sorrow had he: And he called for the music of a hundred harps, To solace his melancholy. They played till they all fell silent: Played -- and play sweet did they; But the sorrow that haunted the heart of King David They could not charm away. He rose; and in his garden Walked by the moon alone, A nightingale hidden in a cypress-tree Jargoned on and on. King David lifted his sad eyes Into the dark-boughed tree -- 'Tell me, thou little bird that singest, Who taught my grief to thee?' But the bird in no wise heeded; And the king in the cool of the moon Hearkened to the nightingale's sorrowfulness, Till all his own was gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?' by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE WINDHOVER: TO CHRIST OUR LORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND ON SEEING AN OLD POET IN THE CAFE ROYAL by JOHN BETJEMAN FALSE LOVE AND TRUE LOGIC by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |