Josephine Preston Peabody

(1874-1922 / United States)

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?

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