Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
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Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
 
V. Singing-Birds
By Sir John Hanmer (1809–1881)
 
SWEET is thy voice, embowered Nightingale,
But for thy praise would fail my weaker song;
Sweet all thy airy kindred, that belong
To Nature’s happiest haunts, by field or vale;
And some there are, that, in the shadows pale        5
Of cavernous dim towns, make yearn the throng;
Prisoners are they, and blind, yet seems more strong
The melody of their lives’ remembered tale.
Ye are the accepted poets: wheresoe’er
Your notes have sounded, joy hath thither come,        10
As flowers to forest wells, serene and clear:
Fame wears ye not, that eats the hearts of some:
Those unambitious accents man doth hear,
And straight the importunate voice of self is done.
 
 
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