NIGHTINGALES warble about it All night under blossom and star; The wild swan is dying without it, And the eagle crieth afar; The sun, he doth mount but to find it, Searching the green earth o'er; But more doth a man's heart mind it — O more, more, more! Over the gray leagues of ocean The infinite yearneth alone; The forests with wandering emotion The thing they know not intone; Creation arose but to see it, A million lamps in the blue; But a lover, he shall be it, If one sweet maid is true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (1) by HENRY FIELDING THE FORERUNNERS by GEORGE HERBERT A PSALM OF LIFE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HALSTED STREET CAR by CARL SANDBURG THALIA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SHRODON FEAR: THE VU'ST PEART by WILLIAM BARNES H. SACRAMENT by JOSEPH BEAUMONT ON THE GREAT ENCOURAGEMENT GIVEN BY ENGLISH NOBILITY & GENTRY by WILLIAM BLAKE |