Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard you

Sobbing your passion into a song?

Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour,

Deigned to pity your life's surrender,

Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender,

You who have waited and loved so long?

Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous music

Cleaving the depths of the dark apart,

Born of a hope that is wearily dying?

Is she ever and aye denying

That for which you are always sighing?

Do you sing with a broken heart?