“Oh sooner shall the Rose of May
Mistake her own sweet Nightingale,
And to some meaner minstrel’s lay
Open her bosom’s glowing veil,
Than love shall ever doubt a tone—
A breath—of the beloved one!”
And in another place, the author of ‘Lalla Rookh’ asks—
“Though rich the spot
With every flower the earth hath got,
What is it to the Nightingale,