THE dearest accents ever heard <br /> Are thine my canny Sally—nay, <br />Thou art to me the sweetest bird <br /> That ever charmed the hours away. <br /> <br />I listen to each syllable <br /> Doth from thy lips of scarlet flow <br />And how I feel I cannot tell— <br /> But fain would feel forever so. <br /> <br />The stalest jest, the tritest tale, <br /> The rudest air, the longest song, <br />From thee were neither trite nor stale, <br /> From thee were neither rude nor long. <br /> <br />Thy music puts me in a trance, <br /> When I'm to heaviness inclined; <br />And maketh me in glee to dance, <br /> When I've no dancing in my mind. <br /> <br />The well-played lute, panpipe, or flute, <br /> May—must the tender heart enchant; <br />But neither flute, panpipe, or lute <br /> Had ever thy sweet tongue to vaunt.<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-songstress/
