Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard you
Sobbing your passion into a song?
Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour,
Deigned to pity your life's surrender,
Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender,
You who have waited and loved so long?
Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous music
Cleaving the depths of the dark apart,
Born of a hope that is wearily dying?
Is she ever and aye denying
That for which you are always sighing?
Do you sing with a broken heart?