SONNET 6 : SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE

In high strains and earnest thought she sings

But none awake to hear her wise musings.

They sleep.

Nice and deep.

Unseen in the dark she dwells,

And things unheard she tells.

Live tales of men in crates

And horrendous deeds, in sweet notes.

Songs of caution she sings,

Bells of warning she rings,

Gives counsels they now need,

But none takes heed.

In time they'll wake to embrace fate.

But then it will be too late.

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AND SO IT WAS IN THE EAST...

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PHILOMEL CANTUS

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