L’Oiseau des Bois
Last night I heard in the wood green and still,
The sweetest music sung by any bird.
I never knew the soul of song, until
Last night I heard.
Pure as life’s morning, warm as love first stirred,
Fresh it outpoured our close attent to fill.
Dearest, you were beside me, and your word
Did through the heavenly harmonies distil
The spirit’s joy: and grosser sense was blurred.
I never knew the soul of Love, until—
Last night I heard!