THERE goes a wanderer through the night With lusty gait; The crooked valley and the height Upon him wait. Blithe is the night— He stands not still, he strides abroad, He seeketh out his unknown road. There sings a bird through the night; "Ah, bird, thou hast me in despite! Why dost thou hold my thought, my feet, Pourest heart's languishing so sweet Into my ear, so that I need Listen and heed— Why dost thou @3tempt@1 me, dost thou greet?" The gentle bird was dumb and said: "Nay, wanderer, nay! Be comforted; My voice is rife To tempt anear a little wife— What is't to thee? Alone is night not fair to me. What is't to thee? So were it best Thou go, and never, never rest! Why stay'st thou yet? How should my mellow music stir Thee, wanderer?" The gentle bird was dumb and thought: How should my flute-song tell him aught? He does not stir— The piteous, piteous wanderer! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PRISONER OF CHILLON: INTRODUCTORY SONNET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON SUMMER MATURES by HELENE JOHNSON IN SICKNESS (1714) by JONATHAN SWIFT AT STRATFORD-ON-AVON by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL THE VIOLIN'S ENCHANTRESS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 41 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |