Classic Poem

N IGHTINGALE , nightingale,
Guest of my bower,
Pouring o'er hill and dale
Notes of such power
None can forget thy tale
Of sorrow's dower,

Fly to my cruel one,
Tell her in truth
That for no orison
Time will have ruth—
Quicker than dreams are done
Passes our youth.

Tell her the fairest rose
Winter's endeavor
Withered, shall May unclose
Fairer than ever.—
Life's Spring-time, once it goes,
Comes again never.

Once age has come, the grace
Crowning her brow
Fades like a garden-space
Cut by the plough,
Furrowing deep her face
Lily-white now.

Once age has stealthily
Wrought out his crime,
Vainly she'll weep for the
Flight of swift time,
Wishing she'd shared with me
Sweets of her prime.

Nightingale, bid her come
Where love reposes,
Lying on sweet winsome
Beds of rich posies,
Changing her colors from
Lilies to roses.