The nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute, But I loved him best of all. For his song is all of the joy of life, And we in the mad, spring weather, We two have listened till he sang Our hearts and lips together. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD NIGHT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 7 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE WALKER OF THE SNOW by CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM; FROM HER BOY by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A SUMMER SUMMARY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |