From the vale, what music ringing,
Fills the bosom of the night;
On the sense, entrancéd, flinging
Spells of witchery and delight!

O’er magnolia, lime and cedar,
From yon locust-top, it swells,
Like the chant of serenader,
Or the rhymes of silver bells!

Listen! dearest, listen to it!
Sweeter sounds were never heard!
‘Tis the song of that wild poet—
Mime and minstrel Mocking—Bird.