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Showing posts from December, 2011

I Know Why the Nightingale Sings Tonight

Oh! tonight 'tis true What the nightingale sings With her unfolded wings, for she Learnt from the wind, utter A sigh. 'twas sometime Earlier this night, the wind Overheard the brook, which Whisper'd to a passing creek, of The story the pebbles told, when Down her banks they rush'd And roll'd. 'twas sometime Earlier this evening, the pebbles I threw in the brook, as Many as I could reach, and with Single each, single only was the Name, which escap'd lips of mine Of you. Five and a twenty cold nights Have come and gone, since You went afar and I'm alone. Remember The Adieu I wished? And Nary  has a moment Pass'd in which Have you not been Solemnly missed. And tonight 'tis true What the nightingale sings With her unfoldeed wings, for she Spreads in the open air, the song of My quiescent despair. So tonight I picked up the stones. And With a deep sigh, I Threw and watch'd them Roll. And off they Roll'd! And on they Float