Night after night the nightingale came to beg for divine love, but though the rose trembled at the sound of his voice, her petals remained closed to him...Flower and bird, two species never meant to mate. Yet at length the rose overcame her fear and from that single, forbidden union was born the red rose that Allah never intended the world to know.
Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late, And studying all the summer night, Her matchless songs does meditate. 556Andrew Marvell
Car crime's low, gun crime's lower,The town hall band CD, it's a grower,you never hear of folk getting knocked on the bonce,although there was a drive-by shouting once,but there's a brass band everywhere,and I don't drive so I don't care,and as a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square,what is Chatteris if you're not there?nigel blackwell
A nightingale dies for shame if another bird sings better.robert burton
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warbl'st at eve, when all the woods are still.john milton
A Locanian having plucked all the feathers off from a nightingale and seeing what a little body it had, "surely," quoth he, "thou art all voice and nothing else." (Vox et præterea nihil.)
Like a wedding-song all-melting Sings the nightingale, the dear one.Heinrich Heine
The nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets sprang.Heinrich Heine
Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth.john keats
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep The nightingale is singing from the steep.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The nightingale as soon as April bringeth Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, While late bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth, Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making. And mournfully bewailing, Her throat in tunes expresseth What grief her breast oppresseth.
The rose looks out in the valley, And thither will I go, To the rosy vale, where the nightingale Sings his song of woe.
Under the linden, On the meadow, Where our bed arranged was, There now you may find e'en In the shadow Broken flowers and crushed grass. Near the woods, down in the vale, Tandaradi! Sweetly sang the nightingale.
Last night the nightingale woke me, Last night, when all was still. It sang in the golden moonlight, From out the woodland hill.
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.john milton
The nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute, But I love him best of all. For his song is all the joy of life, And we in the mad spring weather, We two have listened till he sang Our hearts and lips together.
When the swallows homeward fly, When the roses scattered lie, When from neither hill or dale, Chants the silvery nightingale: In these words my bleeding heart Would to thee its grief impart; When I thus thy image lose Can I, ah! can I, e'er know repose?
Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale; were I a swan, the part of a swan.
He was known to his countrymen as the nightingale, but his own sweet-sounding name of Bird's-meadow (Vogelweide) suggests even more directly the pure, true, flute-like strain which he poured into Europe’s choir of voices.walther von der vogelweide
I said to the nightingale: "Hail, all hail! Pierce with thy trill the dark, Like a glittering music-spark, When the earth grows pale and dumb."
O nightingale, Cease from thy enamoured tale.
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