Playful Poems
old man’s hair.

37.

“And, therefore, Nightingale! do thou keep nigh, For trust me well, in spite of thy quaint cry, If long time from thy mate thou be, or far, Thou’lt be as others that forsaken are; Then shalt thou raise a clamour as do I.”

38.

“Fie,” quoth she, “on thy name, Bird ill beseen! The God of Love afflict thee with all teen, For thou art worse than mad a thousandfold; For many a one hath virtues manifold Who had been nought, if Love had never been.

39.

“For evermore his servants Love amendeth, And he from every blemish them defendeth; And maketh them to burn, as in a fire, In loyalty and worshipful desire, And when it likes him, joy enough them sendeth.”

40.

“Thou Nightingale!” the Cuckoo said, “be still; For Love no reason hath but his own will;— For to th’ untrue he oft gives ease and joy; True lovers doth so bitterly annoy, He lets them perish through that grievous ill.

41.

“With such a master would I never be, For he, in sooth, is blind, and may not see, And knows not when he hurts and when he heals; Within this court full seldom truth avails, So diverse in his wilfulness is he.”

42.

Then of the Nightingale did I take note, How from her inmost heart a sigh she brought, And said, “Alas! that ever I was born, Not one word have I now, I am so forlorn,”— And with that word, she into tears burst out.

43.

“Alas, alas! my very heart will break,” Quoth she, “to hear this churlish bird thus speak Of Love, and of his holy services; Now, God of Love! thou help me in some wise, That vengeance on this Cuckoo I may wreak.”

44.

And so methought I started up anon, And to the brook I ran, and got a stone, Which at the Cuckoo hardily I cast, And he for dread did fly away full fast; And glad, in sooth, was I when he was gone.

45.

And as he flew, the Cuckoo ever and aye Kept crying, “Farewell!—farewell, popinjay!” As if in scornful mockery of me; And on I hunted him from tree to tree, Till 
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