 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
APOLOGIA
Why dost thou sing, poor bird of feeble song,
While all the coppice rings with nightingales
And the sweet thrush is vocal in the dales?
To these the glories of the spring belong.
While all the coppice rings with nightingales
And the sweet thrush is vocal in the dales?
To these the glories of the spring belong.
Thy note is neither clear nor sweet nor strong:
Be silent; who will hear thy puny wails?
Thy throat is weak, thy cadence sorely fails;
Thou dost these more melodious songsters wrong.
Be silent; who will hear thy puny wails?
Thy throat is weak, thy cadence sorely fails;
Thou dost these more melodious songsters wrong.
471
Then the poor bird replied,—“The daisy holds
Its right to summer with the lordliest tree,
The spring was made as much for meanest me
As for thy queenly voice, which thrills the wolds,
And random notes of mine may linger on
To cheer the traveller after thou art gone.”
Its right to summer with the lordliest tree,
The spring was made as much for meanest me
As for thy queenly voice, which thrills the wolds,
And random notes of mine may linger on
To cheer the traveller after thou art gone.”
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |