Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE NIGHTINGALE, by PHILIP AYRES



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TO THE NIGHTINGALE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Why, little charmer of the air
Last Line: I ask but silence whilst I die.
Subject(s): Birds; Nightingales


Why, little charmer of the air,
Dost thou in music spend the morn?
Whilst I thus languish in despair,
Opprest by Cynthia's hate and scorn:
Why does thou sing, and hear me cry;
Tell, wanton Songster, tell me why?

I

WILT thou not cease at my desire?
Will those small organs never tire?
Nature did these close shades prepare,
Not for thy music, but my care:
Then why wilt thou persist to sing,
Thou beautiful malicious thing?
When kind Aurora first appears,
She weeps, in pity to my tears;
If thus thou think'st to give relief,
Thou never knew'st a Lover's grief.
Then, little charmer, &c.
That dost in music, &c.

II

Thou Feather'd Atom, where in thee
Can be compris'd such harmony?
In whose small fabric must remain,
What composition does contain.
All griefs but mine are at a stand,
When thy surprising tunes command.
How can so small a tongue and throat
Express so loud, and sweet a note?
Thou hast more various points at will,
Than Orpheus had with all his skill.
Then, little charmer, &c.
That dost in music, &c.

III

Great to the ear, though small to sight,
The happy Lover's dear delight,
Fly to the bow'r where such are laid,
And there bestow thy serenade.
Haste from my sorrow, haste away;
Alas, there's danger in thy stay,
Lest hearing me so oft complain,
Should make thee change thy cheerful strain,
Thy songs cannot my grief remove,
Thou harmless syren of the grove.

Then cease, thou charmer of the air,
No more in music spend the morn,
With me that languish in despair,
Opprest by Cynthia's hate and scorn;
And do not this poor boon deny,
I ask but silence whilst I die.





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