Shelley Sunday: ‘A Widow Bird Sate Mourning’

A Widow Bird Sate Mourning

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Heigho! the lark and the owl!

One flies the morning, and one lulls the night:

Only the nightingale, poor fond soul,

Sings like the fool through darkness and light.

“A widow bird sate mourning for her love

Upon a wintry bough;

The frozen wind crept on above,

The freezing stream below.

“There was no leaf upon the forest bare,

No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

Except the mill-wheel’s sound.

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Image: Nightengale. Giphy.com