FastSaying
Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.
John Keats
Nightingales
Related Quotes
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
— John Keats
Nightingales
Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown.
— John Keats
Nightingales
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
— John Milton
Nightingales
Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even-song.
— John Milton
Nightingales
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love.
— John Milton
Nightingales