A Song About Singing Poem by Anne Reeve Aldrich

A Song About Singing



O nightingale, the poet's bird,
A kinsman dear thou art,
Who never sings so well as when
The rose-thorns bruise his heart.
But since thy agony can make
A listening world so blest,
Be sure it cares but little for
Thy wounded, bleeding breast!

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Be the first one to comment on this poem!
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success