The Nightingale

I through my throat the thronging melodies

Delicately devising in divers moods,

Let my little breath lavishly chime,

Still the bestower of unstinted song.

Of old to all men my evening enchantment

Brings blissful ease; they, when I bind them

With my thrilling sweet troubles, enthralled in their houses

Lean forward, listening. Learn now my name

Who cry so keenly, such quivering glee

Pealing merrily, and pour such musical

Ringing welcome to returning warriors.