Page 65 - Synergy 17-18

MINDSPACE

W O RD FA CT O R Y
The Nightingale

The specked bird sings in the tree,
When all the stars are silver-pale,
Come, children, walk the night with me,

And we shall hear the nightingale.

The nightingale is a shy bird,
He flits before you through the night,

And now the sleepy role is stirred,
Through all its green and gold & white.

The moon leans from her place to hear,

The stars shed golden star dust down,
For now comes in the sweet of the
years,
The country’s gotten the greenest

gown.

The blackbird turns upon his bed,
The thrush has open a sleeping eyes,

Quiet each Donny sleepy-head,
But who goes singing up the sky.

It is, It is the nightingale,

In the tall tree green upon the hill,
To moonlight and the deny vale,
The nightingale will sing his fill.

He’s but a homely, specked bird,
But he has gotten a golden flute,
And when his wondrous song is heard,
Blackbird & thrush & lark are mute.

Troop, children dear, out to the night,
Clod in the moonlight silver-pale,
And in the world of green and white,
Linson Mathew “This you shall hear the nightingale”.
F.Y.B.Com (C)

64 | SYNERGY 17-18 | GURU NANAK COLLEGE OF ARTS, SCIENCE & COMMERCE GURU NANAK COLLEGE OF ARTS, SCIENCE & COMMERCE | SYNERGY 17-18 | 65