Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/37

 THE NIGHTINGALE.

! 'tis the Nightingale O'er the silence doth prevail, Ravishing the listening air With his solo rich and clear, With his exquisite delight Thrilling all the heart of night. Surely naught akin to pain Is the theme of such a strain: Only love's divinest treasure, Only love's unshadowed pleasure Can give birth to such a measure; Love, without its care and pain, Such as others seek in vain, Surely is this creature's gain! Love we dream of, pining, yearning, To be lost within its burning!

The mysterious music falls Now at wayward intervals: Now a rivulet of song, As from springs of Helicon, Through the darkness bubbles on— Bubbles through the breathless air In notes so full, so rich, so clear, Angels lean from heaven to hear, Lean until their listening faces Light the interstellar spaces,