Rocked on many a bending bough
Empty nests are swaying now
In the Autumn wind,
Hanging o'er the cool cascade,
Hidden in the hazel shade,
Nests that loving skill has made
Soon to leave behind.
From the leafy twigs around
Once was borne the joyous sound
Of the wild bird's voice,
Pouring out his little soul
In melodious notes that roll
Merrily from knoll to knoll
Bidding all rejoice.
Long ago the birds have flown
And the little nests alone,
Rocking to and fro,
Time a silent mournful strain
While the wandering winds complain
Whisper faint and low.
And I think of one lone nest
Where a birdling used to rest
In the joyous spring,
Now when Autumn decks the lands
Rocked no more by loving hands
Lo, an empty cradle stands
Where they used to sing.
by: Martha Lavinia Hoffman (1865-1900)
God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest. ~J.G. Holland
There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before. ~Robert Lynd, The Blue Lion and Other Essays
If I were a bird
If I were a bird, I'd sing a song
And fly about the whole day long
And when the night comes,go to rest,
Up in my cozy little nest.
by Jackie Silberg
All the little birds are asleep in their nest.
All the little birds are taking a rest.
They do not even twitter,they do not even tweet.
Everything is quiet up and down the street.
Then came the mother bird and tapped them on the head.
They opened up one little eye and this is what she said.
"come little birds,it's time to learn to fly,
come little birds fly away up in the sky"
Fly, fly, oh fly away, fly, fly, fly
Fly, fly, oh fly away, fly away so high.
Fly, fly, oh fly away, birds can fly the best.
Fly, fly, oh fly away, now fly back to your nest.
It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.
Aesop (620 BC-560 BC)
To bring house wrens to your yard
is a job that's not too hard.
Hang a bird-house from a tree,
and in April you might see
not just one wren but a pair
setting up house-keeping there.
Then you'll hear all summer long
their bubbly chitter-chattering song.
by Erica Stux
Birds sing after a storm, why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?
Rose Kennedy (1890-1995)
There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.
These lovely homes will be cleaned out and ready to go for next years feathered friends
I'm linking to Honey's Potpourri Friday and first giveaway
I am also linking to SJ Homemaker on a dime