O Nightingale
Awake now the nightingale
Hid, I cannot see its face
Webs the day a better tale
And soothe the heart with its grace
To hear it sing, one must leave
The chill clamors of the night
And mute thoughts that make morn grieve
And sup its song and sunlight
How sweet on the morning air
It pours its sweet consolation
Free of charge this balm I share
The peace of restoration
O nightingale, o kind muse
O clinic to human care
That I neither bought nor choose
That submission brings me here
How bright you rinse the chill day
And set my hope clean flaming
And sorrows old past away
Your song my joy reclaiming
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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