BY nought but sorrow attended, I wander'd under the trees; That olden vision descended, And stole to my heart by degrees. Who taught you the word ye are singing, Ye birds in the branches on high? O hush! when my heart hears it ringing, It makes it more mournfully sigh. "A fair young maiden 'twas taught it, "Who came here, and sang like a bird; "And so we birds easily caught it, "That pretty, golden word." No more shall this story deceive me, Ye birds, so wondrously sly: Of my sorrow ye fain would bereave me, On your friendship I cannot rely. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO SEE THE STARS IN DAYLIGHT by JAMES GALVIN APPROACH OF WINTER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW NEW FRIENDS AND OLD FRIENDS by JOSEPH PARRY THE PASSOVER IN THE HOLY FAMILY (FOR A DRAWING) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, MASTER SHAKERLY MARMION, UPON CUPID AND PSYCHE by RICHARD BROME |