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.

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.

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 bird
That glads the night had cheer'd the listening groves with sweet
complainings.

The bird
That glads the night had cheer'd the listening groves with sweet
complainings.

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 was always a lover of soft-winged things.

I was always a lover of soft-winged things.

To warm their little loves the birds complain.

To warm their little loves the birds complain.

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea,
Why takest thou its melancholy voice,
And with that read more

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea,
Why takest thou its melancholy voice,
And with that boding cry
Along the waves dost thou fly?
Oh! rather, bird, with me
Through this fair land rejoice!

A rare bird upon the earth, and exceedingly like a black swan.
[Lat., Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima read more

A rare bird upon the earth, and exceedingly like a black swan.
[Lat., Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno.]