SONG

By James Thomson

"The Nightingale was not yet heard,
   For the Rose was not yet blown."[1]
His heart was quiet as a bird
   Asleep in the night alone,
And never were its pulses stirred
   To breathe or joy or moan:
The Nightingale was not yet heard
   For the Rose was not yet blown.

Then She bloomed forth before his sight
   In passion and in power,
And filled the very day with light,
   So glorious was her dower;
And made the whole vast moonlit night
   As fragrant as a bower:
The young, the beautiful, the bright,
   The splendid peerless Flower.

Whereon his heart was like a bird
   When Summer mounts his throne,
And all its pulses thrilled and stirred
   To songs of joy and moan,
To every most impassioned word
   And most impassioned tone;
The Nightingale at length was heard
   For the Rose at length was blown.

February 1877.

Author's note: [1] “Traveller in Persia” (Mr. Binning);
cited by Mr. Fitz-Gerald in the notes to his translation of Omar Khayyam.

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