“ It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word. Lord Byron
“ Hark! that's the nightingale Telling the self-same tale Her song told when this ancient earth was young: So echoes answered when her song was sung In the first wooded vale. Christina G. Ross
“ Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn:It listens, listens. Taller trees beyondListen. The moon at the unruffled pondStares. And you sing, you sing.That star-enchanted song falls through the airFro… Harold Monro
