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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.
Birdes of a feather will flocke togither.
Birdes of a feather will flocke togither.
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,
Birds of a feather will gather together.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.
Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.
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.]
Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
I got to love one man till I die,
read more
Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
I got to love one man till I die,
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.
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.
