Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain -
To thy high requiem become a sod.
-From Ode to a Nightingale, by Keats
Second commish for
In the story of the clockwork nightingale, the mechanical bird sang to keep Death from the emperor. But being only clockwork, it eventually ran down and it was the real nightingale that had to save him.