THE wakeful nightingale, that takes no rest, While Cupid warms his little breast; All night how sweetly he complains, And makes us fear that love has pains: No, no, no, no, 'tis no such thing, For love that makes him wakeful, makes him sing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF LEONIDAS by GEORGE CROLY THE YEAR'S AWAKENING by THOMAS HARDY THE RAVAGED VILLA by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO MY FIRST LOVE, MY MOTHER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |