Whence it is, that amazed I hear <br />From yonder withered spray, <br />This foremost morn of all the year, <br />The melody of May? <br /> <br />And why, since thousands would be proud <br />Of such a favour shown, <br />Am I selected from the crowd <br />To witness it alone? <br /> <br />Sing'st thou, sweet Philomel, to me, <br />For that I also long <br />Have practised in the groves like thee, <br />Though not like thee in song? <br /> <br />Or sing'st thou rather under force <br />Of some divine command, <br />Commissioned to presage a course <br />Of happier days at hand? <br /> <br />Thrice welcome then! for many a long <br />And joyless year have I, <br />As thou to-day, put forth my song <br />Beneath a wintry sky. <br /> <br />But Thee no wintry skies can harm, <br />Who only need'st to sing, <br />To make even January charm, <br />And every season Spring.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-nightingale-which-the-author-heard-sing-on-new-year-s-day/
