A Nightingale, that all day long
Had cheered the village with his song,
Nor yet at dusk his note suspended,
Not even when the dusk was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When, looking eagerly around,
He spied far off, upon the ground,
A shining something in the dark,
And knew the glowworm by his spark;
So swooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop.
The worm, aware of his intent,
Rebuked him thus, quite eloquent:
“Did you admire my lamp,” said he,
“As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song;
For’twas the selfsame power divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine.
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night.”
The songster, hearing this short oration,
Warbled out his acceptation.
Then released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.
Hence clashing brethren ought to learn
The real intent they should discern –
That brother should not war with brother,
Nor worry, bite or consume each other;
But sing and shine with sweet consent,
Till life’s short fleeting night is spent,
Respecting in each other’s case
The gifts of nature and of grace.
Those who best fulfill the Christian name
Are they who diligently make peace their aim;
Peace both the duty and the prize –
Of him that creeps and him that flies.