SONNET XV.

By Robert Lovell

Sad songstress of the night, no more I hear

Thy soften'd warblings meet my pensive ear,

As by thy wonted haunts again I rove;

Why art thou silent? wherefore sleeps thy lay?

For faintly fades the sinking orb of day,

And yet thy music charms no more the grove.

The shrill bat flutters by; from yon dark tower

The shrieking owlet hails the shadowy hour;

Hoarse hums the beetle as he drones along,

The hour of love is flown! thy full-fledg'd brood

No longer need thy care to cull their food,

And nothing now remains to prompt the song:

But drear and sullen seems the silent grove,

No more responsive to the lay of love.