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To warm their little loves the birds complain.
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
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.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day.
Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day.
I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
I was always a lover of soft-winged things.
Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
read more
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,
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.
Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on read more
Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore!"