In midst of woods or pleasant grove

In midst of woods or pleasant grove,
Where all sweet birds do sing,
Methought I heard so rare a sound
Which made the heavens to ring.

The charm was good, the noise full sweet,
Each bird did play his part;
And I admired to hear the same,
Joy sprang into my heart.

The black bird made the sweetest sound,
Whose tunes did far excel;
Full pleasantly, and most profound
Was all things placed well.

Thy pretty tunes, mine own sweet bird,
Done with so good a grace,
Extolls thy name, prefers the same
Abroad in every place.

Thy music grave, bedecked well
With sundry points of skill,
Bewrays thy knowledge excellent
Ingrafted in thy will.

My tongue shall speak, my pen shall write
In praise of thee to tell;
The sweetest bird that ever was,
In friendly sort farewell.