University of Virginia Library

TO THE NIGHTINGALE.

Lone minstrel of the moonlight hour,
Who charm'st the silent list'ning plain,
A hapless pilgrim treads thy bow'r,
To hear thy solitary strain.
How soothing is the song of woe,
To me, whom Love hath doom'd to pine!
For, 'mid those sounds that plaintive flow,
I hear my sorrows mix with thine.