NIGHTINGALE, nightingale, Guest of my bower, Pouring o'er hill and dale Notes of such power None can forget thy tale Of sorrow's dower, Fly to my cruel one, Tell her in truth That for no orison Time will have ruth -- Quicker than dreams are done Passes our youth. Tell her the fairest rose Winter's endeavor Withered, shall May unclose Fairer than ever. -- Life's Spring-time, once it goes, Comes again never. Once age has come, the grace Crowning her brow Fades like a garden-space Cut by the plough, Furrowing deep her face Lily-white now. Once age has stealthily Wrought out his crime, Vainly she'll weep for the Flight of swift time, Wishing she'd shared with me Sweets of her prime. Nightingale, bid her come Where love reposes, Lying on sweet winsome Beds of rich posies, Changing her colors from Lilies to roses. |