Here you will find the Poem The Nightingale of poet Victor James Daley
WHEN the moon a golden-pale Lustre on my casement flings, An enchanted nightingale In the haunted silence sings. Strange the song?its wondrous words Taken from the primal tongue, Known to men, and beasts, and birds, When the care-worn world was young Listening low, I hear the stars Through her strains move solemnly, And on lonesome banks and bars Hear the sobbing of the sea. And my memory dimly gropes Hints to gather from her song Of forgotten fears and hopes, Joys and griefs forgotten long. And I feel once more the strife Of a passion, fierce and grand, That, in some long-vanished life, Held my soul at its command. Ah, my Love, in robes of white Standing by a moonlit sea, Like a lily of the night, Hast thou quite forgotten me? Dost thou never dream at whiles Of that silent, templed vale, And the dim wood in whose aisles Sang a secret nightingale? Whither hast thou gone? What star Holds thy spirit pure and fine? In this world below there are None like thee: and thou wert mine! For a season all things last, Love and Joy, and Life and Death; Thou art portion of my past, I of thine, whilst Time draws breath. Fades the moonlight golden-pale, And the bird has ceased to sing? Ah, it was no nightingale, But my heart?remembering.