But our bird knew not of the free blue air, He had lived in his cage, and his home was there : No flight had he in the green wood flown - He pined not for freedom he never had known! If he had lived amid leaf and bough It had been cruel to fetter him now; For I have seen a poor bird die, And all for love of his native sky.
Letitia Elizabeth LandonRelated topics
air amid bird blue bough cage cruel die fetter flight fly free freedom green home known leaf love native now poor seen sky woodRelated quotes
The Wild Hunt is known in all Celtic countries; it is a huntsman with a pack of hounds who is seen or heard to rush through the country. Those who see him are doomed to die. The writer heard the Wild Hunt quite distinctly one night in Wales several years ago, but has not suffered any ill effects from it as yet.
Robertson Davies
How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures; nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven:
In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine
Rolls through the dark blue depths;
Beneath her steady ray
The desert circle spreads
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.
How beautiful is night!
Robert Southey
Skylark,
Have you seen a valley green with Spring
Where my heart can go a-journeying,
Over the shadows in the rain
To a blossom covered lane?
And in your lonely flight,
Haven't you heard the music in the night,
Wonderful music,
Faint as a will-o-the-wisp,
Crazy as a loon,
Sad as a gypsy serenading the moon.
Johnny Mercer
When all the dark clouds roll away
And the sun begins to shine
I see my freedom from across the way
And it comes right in on time
Well it shines so bright and it gives so much light
And it comes from the sky above
Makes me feel so free makes me feel like me
And lights my life with love.
Van Morrison
Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and a three hours' march to dinner - and then to thinking! ... I begin to feel, think, and be myself again. Instead of an awkward silence, broken by attempts at wit or dull common-places, mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence.
William Hazlitt
