Long time I waited for the nightingale, Befooled by that dumb coppice; till the dove And finch descried me watching in the grove, Poor client of the darkness, worn and pale: But oh! how often is our frustrate hope Exchanged by Heaven for unexpected mirth! Though baulked and sleepless, yet I could not mope 'Mid the full matins of the awakened earth; Bold chanticleer, alighting from his perch, 'The night birds play thee false', he said - and crowed; 'Welcome to truth and day!' The lark uprode And carolled. Thus, amid my weary search For song in bowers of silence, June was born, And tuneless night exchanged for choral morn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN HARDWOOD GROVES by ROBERT FROST TWILIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ALCAICS: TO H. F. BROWN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TO THE DAISY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BOUNDARIES OF APPRECIATION by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE BLIND MAN by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. A ROW IN AN OMNIBUS BOX; A LEGEND OF THE HAYMARKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |