A Pair of Nightingales

COOL-SMELLING Oleander loves the stream
And bends ripe roses over it; but whose
Are those bright eyes that look aslant at me?
And whose are those slim talons, smooth, yet sharp,
That hold an insect up?
She flies away,
Nor heeds my doubts and questionings.
Melodious gurgles ripple from a copse
Hard-by: she seems to thank me, seems to tell
Her partner not to fear me: they defer
The song of gratitude til even-tide,
Then gushes it amain.
Fond pair, sing on;
I will watch near you; none shall interrupt
That deep and sparkling stream of melody.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.