For works with similar titles, see Nocturne.
NOCTURNE
O bird beneath the midnight sky!
As on my lonely couch I lie,
I hear thee singing in the dark—
Why sing not I?
As on my lonely couch I lie,
I hear thee singing in the dark—
Why sing not I?
No star-gleams meet thy wakeful eye3
No fond mate answers to thy cry;
No other voice, through all the dark,
Makes sweet reply.
No fond mate answers to thy cry;
No other voice, through all the dark,
Makes sweet reply.
Yet never skylark soaring high
Where sun-lit clouds rejoicing lie,
Sang as thou singest in the dark,
Not mute as I!
Where sun-lit clouds rejoicing lie,
Sang as thou singest in the dark,
Not mute as I!
O lone, sweet spirit! tell me why
So far thy ringing love-notes fly,
While other birds, hushed by the dark,
Are mute as I?
So far thy ringing love-notes fly,
While other birds, hushed by the dark,
Are mute as I?
No prophecy of morn is nigh;
Yet as the sombre hours glide by,
Bravely thou singest in the dark—
Why sing not I?
Yet as the sombre hours glide by,
Bravely thou singest in the dark—
Why sing not I?