Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume IX. Tragedy: Humor. 1904. | | | | Humorous Poems: IV. Ingenuities: Oddities | | Larks and Nightingales | | Nathan Haskell Dole (1852–1935) |
| | | ALONE I sit at eventide: | |
| The twilight glory pales, | |
| And o’er the meadows far and wide | |
| Chant pensive bobolinks. | |
| (One might say nightingales!) | 5 |
| |
| Song-sparrows warble on the tree, | |
| I hear the purling brook, | |
| And from the old “manse o’er the lea” | |
| Flies slow the cawing crow. | |
| (In England ’twere a rook!) | 10 |
| |
| The last faint golden beams of day | |
| Still glow on cottage panes, | |
| And on their lingering homeward way | |
| Walk weary laboring men. | |
| (Oh, would that we had swains!) | 15 |
| |
| From farm-yards, down fair rural glades | |
| Come sounds of tinkling bells, | |
| And songs of merry brown milkmaids, | |
| Sweeter than oriole’s. | |
| (Yes, thank you—Philomel’s!) | 20 |
| |
| I could sit here till morning came, | |
| All through the night hours dark, | |
| Until I saw the sun’s bright flame | |
| And heard the chickadee. | |
| (Alas we have no lark!) | 25 |
| |
| We have no leas, no larks, no rooks, | |
| No swains, no nightingales, | |
| No singing milkmaids (save in books): | |
| The poet does his best— | |
| It is the rhyme that fails! | 30 | | | |
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