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.

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.

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.

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.

Every bird that upwards swings
Bears the Cross upon its wings.

Every bird that upwards swings
Bears the Cross upon its wings.

Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
I got to love one man till I die,
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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.

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.

That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.

That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.

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,