The Nightingales Song

It rose, It fell
It trembled, it dwelled
Shrill and sharp
Like an echoing harp

The nightingale sang
A song forlorn
Breaking the silence
A crusader so lone

 Filling the skies
And filling the breeze
With magical music
From within the trees.

Is it a story, is it a song
It just keeps singing
No thought to how long.

The winds just rustle
The clouds they dance
As the nightingales song
Drifts across the lands !