King David - Herbert Howells

King David was a sorrowful man:
No cause for his sorrow had he;
And he called for the music of a hundred harps,
To ease his melancholy.
They played till they all fell silent:
Played and play sweet did they;
But the sorrow that haunted the heart of King David
They could not charm away.
He rose; and in his garden
Walked by the moon alone,
A nightingale hidden in a cypress tree,
Jargoned on and on.
King David lifted his sad eyes
Into the dark-boughed tree
'Tell me, thou little bird that singest,
Who taught my grief to thee?'
But the bird in no-wise heeded;
And the king in the cool of the moon
Hearkened to the nightingale sorrowfulness,
Till all his own was gone.