Over increasingly large areas of the United States, spring now
comes unheralded by the return of the birds, and read more

Over increasingly large areas of the United States, spring now
comes unheralded by the return of the birds, and the early
mornings are strangely silent where once they were filled with
the beauty of bird song.

The nightingale has a lyre of gold,
The lark's is a clarion call,
And the blackbird plays read more

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

You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.

You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea,
Why takest thou its melancholy voice,
And with that read more

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea,
Why takest thou its melancholy voice,
And with that boding cry
Along the waves dost thou fly?
Oh! rather, bird, with me
Through this fair land rejoice!

The woosel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
read more

The woosel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill--
. . . .
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo grey,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay.

That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.

That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.

Dame Nature's minstrels.

Dame Nature's minstrels.

Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.

Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.

He is a fool who lets slip a bird in the hand for a bird in the
bush.

He is a fool who lets slip a bird in the hand for a bird in the
bush.