Regret
by John Banister Tabb
What pleading passion of the dark
Hath left the Morning pale?
She listens! 'T is, alas, the Lark,
And not the Nightingale!
O for the gloom-encircled sphere,
Whose solitary bird
Outpours for Love's awakening ear
What noon hath never heard!
Source:
PoemsCopyright 1894
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston