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| Author |
Quotes |
| David Macbeth Moir | The birds have ceased their songs, All save the blackbird, that from yon tall ash, 'Mid Pinkie's greenery, from his mellow throat, In adoration of the setting sun, Chants forth his evening hymn. | | James Montgomery | Golden Bill! Golden Bill! Lo, the peep of day; All the air is cool and still, From the elm-tree on the hill, Chant away: . . . . Let thy loud and welcome lay Pour alway Few notes but strong. | | Lord Alfred Tennyson | O Blackbird! sing me something well: While all the neighbors shoot thee round, I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell. | | - Page 1 Next | |
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