Now while the birds within their feathers hide
The nestled head, thy visit, Moon, renew;
Let thy pale spirit thro’ the foliage glide,
And flowering thorns illuminate with dew.
To thee the Nightingale her pipe shall play,
And thus my pen shall moralize her lay.
The gorgeous Sun ten thousand warblers sing,
One solitary bird the Moon below.
Thus for the Great what choral Paeans ring!
Thus for the Good what scanty praises flow!
(Eaton Stannard Barrett)
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Based on Topics: Birds PoemsBased on Keywords: warblers, paeans, moralize