William Wordsworth (1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)
O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art
O Nightingale! thou surely art
A creature of a "fiery heart":--
These notes of thine--they pierce and pierce;
Tumultuous harmony and fierce!
Thou sing'st as if the God of wine
Had helped thee to a Valentine;
A song in mockery and despite
Of shades, and dews, and silent night;
And steady bliss, and all the loves
Now sleeping in these peaceful groves.
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze:
He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed;
And somewhat pensively he wooed:
He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song -- the song for me!
Poet Other Poems
- A Character
- A Complaint
- A Fact, And An Imagination, Or, Canute A...
- A Farewell
- A Flower Garden At Coleorton Hall, Leice...
- A Gravestone Upon The Floor In The Clois...
- A Jewish Family In A Small Valley Opposi...
- A Morning Exercise
- A Narrow Girdle of Rough Stones and Crag...
- A Night Thought
- A Night-Piece
- A Parsonage In Oxfordshire
- A Poet! He Hath Put his Heart to School
- A Poet's Epitaph
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.