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    The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
    When neither is attended; and I think
    The nightingale, if she should sing by day
    When every goose is cackling, would be thought
    No better a musician than the wren.
    How many thing by season seasoned are
    To their right praise and true perfection!

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  10  /  22  

As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
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As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made.

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  11  /  28  

The nightingale appear'd the first,
And as her melody she sang,
The apple into blossom burst,
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The nightingale appear'd the first,
And as her melody she sang,
The apple into blossom burst,
To life the grass and violets sprang.

by Heinrich Heine Found in: Nightingales Quotes,
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  4  /  21  

What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale--
Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu, read more

What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale--
Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu, she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.

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  9  /  24  

Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one.

Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one.

by Heinrich Heine Found in: Nightingales Quotes,
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  12  /  49  

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I read more

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown.

by John Keats Found in: Nightingales Quotes,
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  46  /  46  

Even the blackest of them all, the crow,
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,
Crushing the beetle read more

Even the blackest of them all, the crow,
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,
Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail,
And crying havoc on the slug and snail.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,

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  15  /  32  

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
Thou read more

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.

by John Milton Found in: Nightingales Quotes,
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  12  /  21  

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; read more

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?

by John Keats Found in: Nightingales Quotes,
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  10  /  37  

The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.

The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.

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