From the Brake the Nightingale

From the brake the NightingaleSings exulting to the Rose;Though he sees her waxing paleIn her passionate repose,While she triumphs waxing frail,Fading even while she glows;Though he knowsHow it goes—Knows of last year's NightingaleDead with last year's Rose.

Wise the enamoured Nightingale,Wise the well-beloved Rose!Love and life shall still prevail,Nor the silence at the closeBreak the magic of the taleIn the telling, though it shows—Who but knowsHow it goes!—Life a last year's Nightingale,Love a last year's Rose.