| Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music --- Do I wake or sleep?
-- John Keats |
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| When I was a boy, there was a nightingale that lived in a bush by my window. Very late, as I would lay in the peaceful dark of the night, I would hear it singing. When we moved, I missed her evening song. I would lay awake at night and never know what it was I was missing. I suppose I never really recognized her.
It wasn't until years later that I realized what it was. I was in front of a friends house, and in the middle of our conversation I heard the old melody. I probably looked crazy, but I just sat there, transfixed, listening.
There are somethings that revive our senses. This last week was a bit melancholy. I haven't slept very well. I keep having strange dreams. I wake up a billion times, and walk in haze for most of the day. Friday, however, as I was walking home, I heard a bird sing. This is a rare occasion int the cold winter months. I had been staring at the ground for most of the day, and for the first time, I looked up. It was just a little black bird but it was beautiful. I realized that it was a beautiful day. I saw the other birds flying about. It made me glad.
I am glad that God sent little birds to brighten our dreary days. I am grateful that he sent his Son to lighten them. I hope you all can enjoy yourselves this week. |
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8 comments:
me too.
love the poem. love you. love nightingales...speaking of nightingale, check out my blog
oh Brian, I too miss the sweet sound of that nightingale! How precious that you re-called that, and for the hope it gave you. Funny thing, every morning since last Thursday there has been a little bird with a black head that sits right by my car when I get out of seminary! It gives a little chirp and tilts it's head as it watches me drive off. Today I heard him outside the classroom as I was cleaning up and I opened the multi-purpose room door to hear him, he enlivened my morning! Strange association for us no?!
love~mom
I LOVED that nightingale. Even still, whenever I hear the sweet call of a nightingale, I'm brought back to my youth. I could hear her all the way on the other side of the house in my room by the atrium too!
'Member endless camp outs in the backyard? Half the time just rolling out a sleeping bag on a tarp... I loved listening to that bird the most when we slept in the backyard.
On another note, "dooooon't stop! beleeeeeeeivin'!!!" ahh, the inspirational gambling/hooker song by Journey. Not so much brightening of the dreary days, but it IS a song that's good for a laugh.
whoa Brian! Looks like you are gettin a little behind in the updating business. O and uh love the post it made me listen to the birds outside my window the other day.
"oooo, I love little birdies, they are so precious..." be a man, grow some more chest hair. I dont think you have been watching enough old spice commericials lately. Jk. I remember you telling me about that nightngale when we were younger. Im glad you realized what a great day it was and that just as the Lord is looking over that bird, he has made even more effort to enrich your life.
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