Inevitably it comes off looking like the postmodern equivalent of Shakespeare's «bare ruined choirs, where late
the sweet birds sang.»
Not exact matches
He speaks, and the sound of His voice, Is so
sweet the
birds hush their
singing, And the melody that He gave to me Within my heart is ringing.
It can be «big» and significant or one of the more sublime, little moments that came along like a
sweet little
bird to
sing into her awareness.
There really are no words to describe this... Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And
sings the tune — without the words, And never stops at all, And
sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little
bird That kept so many warm.
I wonder if he to is «
singing» to the «FEDS» the love those song
birds who
sing sweet somethings into their ear to stay out of jail or do as little time as possible.
Summer is my favorite time of year:
birds singing outside my window in the mornings, splashing in the creek with my boys, and breathing in
sweet mountain fresh air on a hike.
It makes me so happy to see green sprouting out all over nature, pretty flowers popping up, and
sweet little
birds singing their wonderful songs.
The last male Kauai O'o
bird sings its
sweet mating call, but the viewer soon learns female Kauai O'o
birds no longer exist.
Love the new baby ducks, Love the
sweet sounds of the
birds singing away, and the new buds popping up from the ground.
It makes me so happy to see green sprouting out all over nature, pretty flowers popping up, and
sweet little
birds singing their wonderful songs.