The nightingale has a golden heart, And a silver heart the wren; But, oh, for me the bold, bright bird That sings with the heart of men! His music is not of seas forlorn, His magic is not of tears; From tilted throat his raptures float And tumble in laughter and jeers. He does not cease when daylight dies, But he sings right on to the dark; The stars or moon may die or swoon, In the drip of the rain -- O hark! He does not cease when spring is done, And his mate with love is fled; A fairer thing than love or spring Is life. And the fall is red. Sing, nightingales and silver wrens And fairy throats that can; But the bird I love is the darling bird With the free, proud heart of a man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DE PROFUNDIS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING VERSES TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF YORK by JOHN DRYDEN MORNING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE LAURELS ARE FELLED by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD; OR COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS by RICHARD BARNFIELD |