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,

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.

Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
I got to love one man till I die,
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Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
I got to love one man till I die,
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.

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.

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.

That which prevents disagreeable flies from feeding on your
repast, was once the proud tail of a splendid bird.

That which prevents disagreeable flies from feeding on your
repast, was once the proud tail of a splendid bird.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

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.

Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.

Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.