Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/335

 .8ONNET. 32 TO THE 'NIGHTIN. GALE.' O mttVXSOA-g, they do sweet Nature wrong, Who say that Grief inspires thy nightlyst.ain; When did she teach her children to complain ? No, 'fis 'exuberant rapture swells thy song, Yet holier rapture, than the madden'd throng Dares by the name of happiness profane. Itemruing from thy lonely sylvan reign, Now, as I page the midnight streets along, I hear the noisy shout of ebriate mirth, And there/s sadness in .that maniac sound, Like ideot laughter in Death's hollow throat.' Oh, it is Man alone untuues the earth, And seems a jarring, and, discordant note, Where all is peaceful harmouyaround ! ......... Google

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