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Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day.
Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day.
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?
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
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.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
Birds of a feather will gather together.
A feather in hand is better then a bird in the ayre.
[A feather in hand is better than read more
A feather in hand is better then a bird in the ayre.
[A feather in hand is better than a bird in the air.]
You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.
You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.
Curse not the king, no not in thy thought; and curse not the rich
in thy bedchamber; for a read more
Curse not the king, no not in thy thought; and curse not the rich
in thy bedchamber; for a bird of the air shall carry the voice,
and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.