The Nightingale's Song

The Nightingale sings her sweet, lonely song Her voice so piercing, achingly long. Standing 'neath an oak tree, I hear her sing And know she sings of years long since gone. Perched high above in the tree's leafy arms The Nightingale sings of a maiden so fair. With graceful figure and leaves in her hair And the dashing young poet the maiden met there. It was love at first sight, the Nightingale sings The poet so dashing, the maiden so fair. She sings of love and of longing it seems Of the heartache when the pair are apart. The leaves in her hair tremble in the breeze As the maiden watches the poet reluctantly leave. Wandering on to some distant land Though the maiden now holds his heart in her hand. The Nightingale sings her beautiful song Her voice so sweet, yet mournful and long. The leaves in her hair turn to gold and to red As the fair maiden's heart fills with sorrow instead. For she knows not when her love will return How many seasons her heart must still yearn. The Nightingale sings of a lover's desire To feel once again love's burning fire. The leaves in her hair have now fallen away As winter's cold touch now chills her each day. But somewhere inside her a flame still burns bright Keeping her warm through the cold winter nights. For her heart still belongs to her poet so fair And the Nightingale sings of the love they found there. the cold winter nights. For her heart still belongs to her poet so fair And the Nightingale sings of the love they found there. For maybe, come spring, he'll return once again To dance 'neath the oak tree so vibrantly green And watch as his love blooms once more, aglow With the leaves in her hair and the colors of spring. And the Nightingale's song will be no more heard For the poet and maiden need no longer yearn.