Our English Nightingale

" You brave, you bonny Nightingale,
You are no summer Bird;
Your music sheathes an Army's wail
That pierces like a Sword."
All night she sings, brave Nightingale,
With her breast against the thorn;
Her saintly patience doth not fail,
She keepeth watch till morn.

" Ah, sing, you bonniest Bird of God,
The night is sad and long;
To dying ears — to broken hearts —
You sing an Angel's song!"
She sings, she sings, brave Nightingale,
And weary warrior souls
Are caught up into Slumber's heaven,
And lapped in Love's warm folds.

" O sing, O sing! brave Nightingale,
And at your magic note
Upon Life's sea victoriously
The sinking soul will float.
O sing, O sing! brave Nightingale,
And lure them back again,
Whose path is lost and spirit crost,
In dark wild woods of Pain."

She sings, she sings, brave Nightingale,
She breathes a gracious balm;
Her presence breaks the waves of war,
She smiles them into calm.
She sings, she sings, brave Nightingale,
Of auld Langsyne and Home;
And life grows light, the world grows bright,
And blood runs rich with bloom.

Day unto day her dainty hands
Make Life's soiled temples clean,
And there's a wake of glory where
Her spirit pure hath been.
At midnight, thro' that shadow-land,
Her living face doth gleam;
The dying kiss her shadow, and
The Dead smile in their dream.

Brave Bird of Love, in Life's sweet May,
She rose up from the feast,
To shine above our Banner,
Like God's Angel in the East.
" Brave Bird of Life, wave healing wings
O'er that grey Land o' the Dead;
God's heaven lie round you like a shield,
Earth's blessings on your head."

The Rose did lift her veil, and blush
At her bower-door like a bride;
The shy brown birds came back with Spring,
In our merry green woods to hide.
But there she sang, our Nightingale!
Till War's stern heart grew mild j
And, nestling in the arms of Peace,
He slumbered like a Child.