To a Nightingale, by Charlotte Smith

O bird of night! thy mystic song to me
Brings sigh unheard, from depths of silence tried.
Among the dales and hollow woods I see
Thy tune resound where love and dreams abide.

Rich foliage sways, while shadows fall and creep
In silence; let thy sweetest notes arise;
From bough to bough, thy whispers wake from sleep,
As passions stir beneath a moonlit guise.

Soft strains of love! Your tenderness I’ll crave,
Amid the bramble nooks and flowers, too;
To every breeze! My heart will gladly save
A bursting joy that blossoms, birth anew.

• Charlotte Smith