For his song is all of the joy of life

Having loaded my iPad with older books, on a flight this past week I was able to find many poems I hadn't read in years.

The Blackbird
by William Ernest Henley

THE nightingale has a lyre of gold,
The lark's is a clarion call,
And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute,
But I love him best of all.

For his song is all of the joy of life,
And we in the mad, spring weather,
We two have listened till he sang
Our hearts and lips together.