The Nightingale Lyrics
The nightingale
So soon as april bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking
While late bare earth
Proud of new clothing springeth
Sings out her woes a thorn her song book making
And mournfully bewailing
Her throat in tunes expresseth
What grief her breast expresseth
So soon as april bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking
While late bare earth
Proud of new clothing springeth
Sings out her woes a thorn her song book making
And mournfully bewailing
Her throat in tunes expresseth
What grief her breast expresseth
Writer(s): Thomas Weelkes, Henry Leslie
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Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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