Raptures

Sing for the sun your lyric, lark,

Of twice ten thousand notes;

Sing for the moon, you nightingales,

Whose light shall kiss your throats;

Sing, sparrows, for the soft warm rain,

To wet your feathers through;

And when a rainbow's in the sky,

Sing you, cuckoo -- Cuckoo!

Sing for your five blue eggs, fond thrush,

By many a leaf concealed;

You starlings, wrens, and blackbirds, sing

In ever wood and field:

While I, who fail to give my love

Long raptures twice as fine,

Will for her beauty breathe this one --

A sigh, that's more divine.