WHEN the moon a golden-pale <br /> Lustre on my casement flings, <br />An enchanted nightingale <br /> In the haunted silence sings. <br /> <br />Strange the song—its wondrous words <br /> Taken from the primal tongue, <br />Known to men, and beasts, and birds, <br /> When the care-worn world was young <br /> <br />Listening low, I hear the stars <br /> Through her strains move solemnly, <br />And on lonesome banks and bars <br /> Hear the sobbing of the sea. <br /> <br />And my memory dimly gropes <br /> Hints to gather from her song <br />Of forgotten fears and hopes, <br /> Joys and griefs forgotten long. <br /> <br />And I feel once more the strife <br /> Of a passion, fierce and grand, <br />That, in some long-vanished life, <br /> Held my soul at its command. <br /> <br />Ah, my Love, in robes of white <br /> Standing by a moonlit sea, <br />Like a lily of the night, <br /> Hast thou quite forgotten me? <br /> <br />Dost thou never dream at whiles <br /> Of that silent, templed vale, <br />And the dim wood in whose aisles <br /> Sang a secret nightingale? <br /> <br />Whither hast thou gone? What star <br /> Holds thy spirit pure and fine? <br />In this world below there are <br /> None like thee: and thou wert mine! <br /> <br />For a season all things last, <br /> Love and Joy, and Life and Death; <br />Thou art portion of my past, <br /> I of thine, whilst Time draws breath. <br /> <br />Fades the moonlight golden-pale, <br /> And the bird has ceased to sing— <br />Ah, it was no nightingale, <br /> But my heart—remembering.<br /><br />Victor James Daley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-nightingale-5/
