William Blake

* * *

Thou hearest the Nightingale begin the Song of Spring.
The Lark sitting upon his earthy bed, just as the morn
Appears, listens silent; then springing from the waving
   Cornfield, loud
He leads the Choir of Day: trill, trill, trill, trill,
Mounting upon the wings of light into the Great Expanse,
Reechoing against the lovely blue & shining heavenly Shell,
His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather
On throat & breast & wings vibrates with the effluence
   Divine
All Nature listens silent to him, & the awful Sun
Stands still upon the Mountain looking
   on this little Bird
With eyes of soft humility & wonder, love & awe,
Then loud from their green covert all the Birds begin
   their Song:
The Thrush, the Linnet & the Goldfinch, Robin & the Wren
Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon
   the Mountain.
The Nightingale again assays his song, & thro' the day
And thro' the night warbles luxuriant, every Bird
   of Song
Attending his loud harmony with admiration & love.
This is a Vision of the lamentation of Beulah
   over Ololon.