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Samuel Taylor Coleridge - About The Nightingale
Work rating: Medium

     In stale blank verse a subject stale
     I send per post my Nightingale;
     And like an honest bard, dear Wordsworth,
     You`ll tell me what you think, my Bird`s worth.
     My own opinion`s briefly this—
     His bill he opens not amiss;
     And when he has sung a stave or so,
     His breast, and some small space below,
     So throbs and swells, that you might swear
     No vulgar music`s working there.
     So far, so good; but then, `od rot him!
     There`s something falls off at his bottom.
     Yet, sure, no wonder it should breed,
     That my Bird`s Tail`s a tail indeed
     And makes it`s own inglorious harmony
     Æolio crepitû, non carmine.
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