All overgrown by cunning moss

All overgrown by cunning moss,

All interspersed with weed,

The little cage of “Currer Bell”

In quiet “Haworth” laid.

This Bird – observing others

When frosts too sharp became

Retire to other latitudes –

Quietly did the same –

But differed in returning –

Since Yorkshire hills are green –

Yet not in all the nests I meet –

Can Nightingale be seen –