The Poet and the Bird
A FABLE
I
Said a people to a poet — " Go out from among us straightway!
While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine:
There's a little fair brown nightingale who, sitting in the gateway,
Makes fitter music to our ear than any song of thine!"
II
The poet went out weeping; the nightingale ceased chanting:
" Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?"
— " I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,
Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun."
III
The poet went out weeping, and died abroad, bereft there;
The bird flew to his grave and died amid a thousand wails:
And when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there
Was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.
I
Said a people to a poet — " Go out from among us straightway!
While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine:
There's a little fair brown nightingale who, sitting in the gateway,
Makes fitter music to our ear than any song of thine!"
II
The poet went out weeping; the nightingale ceased chanting:
" Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?"
— " I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,
Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun."
III
The poet went out weeping, and died abroad, bereft there;
The bird flew to his grave and died amid a thousand wails:
And when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there
Was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.