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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

To A. D.

William Ernest Henley

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 of the joy of life,
And we in the mad, spring weather,
We two have listened till he sang
Our hearts and lips together.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From Poems | Macmillan and Co., 1920
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