The Poet And The Bird

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    <strong>The Poet And The Bird</strong>

    Said a people to a poet--- Go out from among us straightway!

    While we are thinkihly things, thou si of divine.

    Theres a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting ieways

    Makes fitter music to our e?ars than any song of thine!

    The poet went out weeping---the nightingale eteased ting;

    Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy <big>?9９lｉｂ.</big>sweetness done?

    I ot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,

    Whose hi<s></s>ghest harmony includes the lowest under sun.

    The poet went out weeping,---and died abroad, bereft there---

    The bird flew to his g<dfn>?99lｉｂ?</dfn>rave and died, amid a thousand wails:---

    And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there

    Was only of the poets song, and not the nightingales.

    <strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>

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