SING not, nightingale, Under my window; Fly away to the woods Of my own country! Learn to love the window Of my soul's maiden! Sing to her tenderly Of my agony; Sing of me without her, Waning, withering, As the grass on the steppe, Autumn facing it. Without her, at night, The moon's overcast; At midday, without flame The sun goes its way. Without her, who will now Give me kind greeting? And on whose breast shall I Lay my head in repose? Without her, whose word shall Win a smile from me? Whose song, whose welcoming Shall now touch my heart? Why sing, nightingale, Under my window? Fly away, fly away, To my soul's maiden! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEVOURER OF NATIONS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ATELIER CEZANNE by CLARENCE MAJOR WHEN I WAS A BIRD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD MANHATTAN, 1609 by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMOS SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE |