I.
SHE, who so long has lain
   Stone-stiff with folded wings,
Within my heart again
   The brown bird wakes and sings.

Brown nightingale, whose strain
   Is heard by day, by night,
She sings of joy and pain,
   Of sorrow and delight.

II.
'Tis true,—in other days
   Have I unbarred the door;
He knows the walks and ways—
   Love has been here before.

Love blest and love accurst
   Was here in days long past;
This time is not the first,
   But this time is the last.