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Sonnet I The Nightingale

Rating: 3.4
Not farther than a fledgling's weak first flight,
In a low dell, standeth an antique grove;
Dusky it is by day, but when 'tis night,
None may tread safely there, unlit by Love.
In lonelier days, it was my mood to rove
At all hours there—to hear what mirth I might
Of the passionate Lark, the brooding Dove,
And the strong Thrush—all breathers of delight.
When Night's drawn curtains darkened the deep vale,
And the rich music of the day was ended,
Out gushed a sudden song of saddest wail,
Breaking the silence it with sweetness mended:—
It was the voice of the waked Nightingale—
Come, love, and hear her melancholy tale.
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COMMENTS
Manonton Dalan 05 January 2016
first English poem i read is sonnet..nice poem
0 0 Reply
Susan Williams 05 January 2016
A pleasant poem but will I be crucified if I say I have read better sonnets on this site? If others enjoy it, I am glad for it because it is written to stir the soul like all literature is written to stir the soul with joy or with sadness. It just did not do it for me today... perhaps tomorrow it would.
26 0 Reply
M Asim Nehal 05 January 2016
Wonderful poem..I liked it....10
1 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 05 January 2016
Superb narration. Enjoyed. Thanks for sharing.
1 0 Reply

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