| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | III. To the Nightingale | | By Frances Anne Kemble (1809–1893) |
| | | HOW passing sad! Listen, it sings again! | |
| Art thou a spirit, that amongst the boughs | |
| The livelong night dost chant that wondrous strain, | |
| Making wan Dian stoop her silver brows | |
| Out of the clouds to hear thee? Who shall say, | 5 |
| Thou lone one, that thy melody is gay? | |
| Let him come listen now to that one note | |
| That thou art pouring o’er and o’er again | |
| Through the sweet echoes of thy mellow throat, | |
| With such a sobbing sound of deep, deep pain. | 10 |
| I prithee cease thy song! for from my heart | |
| Thou hast made memory’s bitter waters start, | |
| And filled my weary eyes with the soul’s rain. | | | | |
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