When grass grows green, and fresh leaves spring,
And flowers are budding on the plain,
When nightingales so sweetly sing,
And through the greenwood swells the strain,
Then joy I in the song and in the flower,
Joy in myself, but in my lady more;
All objects round my spirit turns to joy,
But most from her my rapture rises high.
The Nightingale
Bernard De Ventadorn
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Poem topics: flower, green, song, spring, fresh, rapture, grass, plain, spirit, lady, high, joy, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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