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.

That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.

That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.

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.

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.

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

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

When the swallows homeward fly,
When the roses scattered lie,
When from neither hill or dale,
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When the swallows homeward fly,
When the roses scattered lie,
When from neither hill or dale,
Chants the silvery nightingale:
In these works my bleeding heart
Would to thee its brief impart;
When I thus thy image lose
Can I, ah! can I, e'er know repose?

Every bird that upwards swings
Bears the Cross upon its wings.

Every bird that upwards swings
Bears the Cross upon its wings.

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 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.