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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.
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.
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!"
You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.
You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.
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 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.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
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?