Nightingales

Hark! ah, the nightingale—Eternal pain!

— Nightingales

For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,So poets live upon the living light.

— Nightingales

The nightingale, if she should sing by day,To their right praise, and true perfection!

— Nightingales

Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

— Nightingales

Lend me your song, ye Nightingales! O, pourInto my varied verse.

— Nightingales

I have heard the nightingale herself.

— Nightingales

As it fell upon a dayWhich a grove of myrtles made.

— Nightingales

It is the hour when from the boughs Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

— Nightingales

"Most musical, most melancholy" bird! In nature there is nothing melancholy.

— Nightingales

'Tis the merry nightingaleOf all its music!

— Nightingales

Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers.

— Nightingales

Like a wedding-song all-meltingSings the nightingale, the dear one.

— Nightingales

The nightingale appear'd the first, To life the grass and violets sprang.

— Nightingales

Where the nightingale doth singBut divine melodious truth.

— Nightingales

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?

— Nightingales

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! In ancient days by emperor and clown.

— Nightingales

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,Minds us of our better choice.

— Nightingales

To the red rising moon, and loud and deepThe nightingale is singing from the steep.

— Nightingales

What bird so sings, yet does so wail? And still her woes at midnight rise.

— Nightingales

Sweet bird that shunn'st the noise of folly,I woo, to hear thy even-song.

— Nightingales

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy sprayWhile the jolly hours lead on propitious May.

— Nightingales

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day Portend success in love.

— Nightingales

I said to the Nightingale: When the earth grows pale and dumb."

— Nightingales

Yon nightingale, whose strain so sweetly flows, And skies, with notes well tuned to her sad state.

— Nightingales

The sunrise wakes the lark to sing, Come, so ye wake the nightingale.

— Nightingales

Hark! that's the nightingale, In the first wooded vale.

— Nightingales

The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.

— Nightingales

O Nightingale,Cease from thy enamoured tale.

— Nightingales

One nightingale in an interfluous woodSatiate the hungry dark with melody.

— Nightingales

The nightingale as soon as April bringeth What grief her breast oppresseth.

— Nightingales

Where beneath the ivy shade,Warbles sweet her plaintive tale.

— Nightingales

—Under the linden,Sweetly sang the nightingale.

— Nightingales

Last night the nightingale woke me,From out the woodland hill.

— Nightingales