Poor melancholy bird -- that all night long Tell'st to the Moon thy tale of tender woe; From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow, And whence this mournful melody of song? Thy poet's musing fancy would translate What mean the sounds that swell thy little breast, When still at dewy eve thou leavest thy nest, Thus to the listening night to sing thy fate. Pale Sorrow's victims wert thou once among, Tho' now released in woodlands wild to rove? Say -- hast thou felt from friends some cruel wrong, Or died'st thou -- martyr of disastrous love? Ah! songstress sad! that such my lot might be, To sigh, and sing at liberty -- like thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EDWIN MORRIS; OR, THE LAKE by ALFRED TENNYSON VERMONT KITCHEN POLES by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE PLOUGHBOY by EDWARD CARPENTER PERDITA (ON SEEING MISS ANDERSON IN THE ROLE) by FLORENCE EARLE COATES A WOMAN AT HER HUSBAND'S GRAVE by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. EPIGRAM: MERCURIUS GALLO-BELGICUS by JOHN DONNE |