The fellowship of nightingales
Crash straight upon the rock
To crack their heads with arms flung all about
Oblivious to hunger or longings too
Farther, farther the lost band pierce
The sea tossed with foam and dross
Troubles manifest amidst the gales of hail stones hurtling home
And from the pit sparks rise up like spirits into the dusk
To merge triumphant with red giants and white dwarfs
Spread unnoticed across the night
Fly, fly you men of grit
Escape your cherished imprisonment 
Shelley in “A Defense of Poetry":
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- "A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.”[
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