Classic Poem

Sweet bird, enchantress of the earth!
Born in the world's young prime!
The only bird of Eden birth,
Left to this latter time!

Why on the sunny laughing day
Thy golden voice expend?
To lonely night belongs thy lay;
Save thee, she has no friend.

The day, it has a thousand songs,
Of leaflet, bird, and bee;
The merry bell to the day belongs; —
The night — it has but thee!

Then for sad solitary night
Reserve thy downy lay;
And she to thee for this delight,
Full many thanks will pay.

Listening all still, o'er vale and hill,
While from some copsewood tree,
Thon with charm'd trill, the air dost fill,
Blending all things in thee.