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Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember
it's a sin to kill a read more
Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember
it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
Never look for birds of this year in the nests of the last.
Never look for birds of this year in the nests of the last.
I heard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
I heard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
The woosel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
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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.
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.
Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
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Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
The dialect they speak, where melodies
Alone are the interpreters of thought?
Whose household words are songs in many keys,
Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,