Josephine Preston Peabody
The Nightingale Unheard
Yes, Nightingale, through all the summer-time
We followed on, from moon to golden moon;
From where Salerno day-dreams in the noon,
And the far rose of Paestum once did climb.
All the white way beside the girdling blue,
Through sun-shrill vines and campanile chime,
We listened; -- from the old year to the new.
Brown bird, and where were you?