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| Author |
Quotes |
| Henry Austin Dobson | Across the noisy street I hear him careless throw One warning utterance sweet; Then faint at first, and low, The full notes closer grow; Hard, what a torrent gush! They pour, they overflow-- Sing on, sing on, O thrush! | | John Banister Tabb | Hush! With sudden gush As from a fountain sings in yonder bush The Hermit Thrush. | | Thomas Tod Stoddart | Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and sing! Meet the moon upon the lea; Are the emeralds of the spring On the angler's trysting-tree? Tell, sweet thrushes, tell to me, Are there buds on our willow-tree? Buds and birds on our trysting tree? | | William Morris | O thrush, your song is passing sweet, But never a song that you have sung Is half so sweet as thrushes sang When my dear love and I were young. | | William Motherwell | In the gloamin' o' the wood The throssil whusslit sweet. | | Lord Alfred Tennyson | When rosy plumelets tuft the larch, And rarely pipes the mounted thrush. | | William Wordsworth | At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years. | | William Wordsworth | And hark! how blithe the throstle sings! He, too, is no mean preacher, Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher. | | - Page 1 Next | |
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