Poem by William Ernest Henley

Echoes. 18. The Nightingale Has a Lyre of Gold

The nightingale has a lyre of gold,
   The lark’s is a clarion-call,
And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute,
   But I love him best of all.

For his song is all of the joy of life,
   And we in the mad, spring weather,
We two have listened till he sang
   Our hearts and lips together.

1. In Hospital. 18. Children: Private Ward
2. Ballade of the Toyokuni Colour-Print
3. Rhymes and Rhythms. Epilogue
4. In Hospital. 26. Anterotics
5. In Hospital. 12. Etching

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