From "The Nightingale's Nest"

How subtle is the bird! she started out
And raised a plaintive note of danger nigh
Ere we were past the brambles, and now, near
Her nest, she sudden stops—as choking fear
That might betray her home. So even now
We'll leave it as we found it: safety's guard
Of pathless solitudes shall keep it still
See there—she's sitting on the old oak bough,
Mute in her fears; our presence doth retard
Her joys, and bout turns every rapture chill.
Sing on, sweet bird, may no worse hap befall
Thy visions than the fear that now deceives.
We will not plunder music of its dower
Nor turn this spot of happiness to thrall
For melody seems hid in every flower
That blossoms near thy home ...