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.

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

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

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 was always a lover of soft-winged things.

I was always a lover of soft-winged things.

The woosel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
read more

The woosel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill--
. . . .
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo grey,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay.

You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.

You must not think, sir, to catch old birds with chaff.

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember
it's a sin to kill a read more

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember
it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

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.

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,