Once long ago, a summer night in June,
When earth lay still beneath a waning moon.
And never sound or rustle in the wood
Save the dull thunder of a far-off flood,
Hurling itself in ruin to the deep
O'er a great gulf, I lay and strove to sleep.
The stars were out; I watched with aching eye
Their slow grand march across a cloudless sky,
But rest came not; when suddenly I heard,
Far in the slumbering forest, one lone bird
Give three sweet calls, as if in pure delight
To fling its soul in music through the night!
Like a cool hand upon a fevered brow
Came that dear song; all fear had vanished now,
Steady my pulse, sunk in oblivion's arms
Forgetful as a child of past alarms.
Ye who have doubts — who is it has them not?
Ye who have fears, and troubled anxious thought,
When the storm lulls, will, if ye list aright,
Hear a bird singing in your darkest night.