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| Author |
Quotes |
| Alexander Pope | Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note. | | Alexander Pope | Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note. | | James Thomson | Linnets . . . sit On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock. | | William Shenstone | Perch'd on the cedar's topmost bough, And gay with gilded wings, Perchance the patron of his vow, Some artless linnet sings. | | William Wordsworth | Hail to thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, linnet! in thy green array, Presiding spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May, And this is thy dominion. | | Lord Alfred Tennyson | I do sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing. | | - Page 1 Next | |
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