The song of spring

Thou hearest the nightingale begin the song of spring;

The lark, sitting upon his earthy bed, just as the morn

Appears, listens silent; then, springing from the waving corn-field, loud

He leads the choir of day: trill -- trill -- trill -- trill --

Mounting upon the wings of light into the great expanse,

Re-echoing against the lovely blue and shining heavenly shell.

His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather

On throat, and breast, and wing, vibrate with the effluence divine.

All nature listens to him silent; and the awful Sun

Stands still upon the mountains, looking on this little bird

With eyes of soft humility, and wonder, love, and awe.

Then loud, from their green covert, all the birds begin their song, --

The thrush, the linnet and the goldfinch, robin and the wren,

Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon the mountains;

The nightingale again essays his song, and through the day

And through the night warbles luxuriant; every bird of song

Attending his loud harmony with admiration and love.