The bluebird sang of the sunshine, and the blackbird of the harvest; but the thrush sang the sweetest song.
"Mother Stories" by Maud Lindsay
The poor Thrush ceased his jubilant song and began to shiver in the March wind.
"The Curious Book of Birds" by Abbie Farwell Brown
Had he been light of dress, like an ordinary song-thrush, any eye could have picked him up in that spot.
"The Way of the Wild" by F. St. Mars
Every mild day in November the thrushes sing; there are meadows where one may be certain to hear the song-thrush.
"Nature Near London" by Richard Jefferies
Even so she listens to the thrush That thrills the air with eddying song.
"The Continental Monthly, Vol III, Issue VI, June, 1863" by Various
You say you greatly prefer the song of the THRUSH.
"Recreations of Christopher North, Volume 2" by John Wilson
The song of the Wood-Thrush consists of about eight or ten different strains, each of considerable length.
"The Atlantic Monthly , Volume 2, No. 14, December 1858" by Various
Yet the thrush sang on, and his song was full of his honest love.
"The Holy Cross and Other Tales" by Eugene Field
I have heard a sparrow, an oriole, and a wood thrush, each of which had a song of its own that far exceeded any other.
"Ways of Nature" by John Burroughs
A thrush sat in the hedge, and she was singing her morning song.
"A Little Book of Profitable Tales" by Eugene Field
Or, to the thrush's full, rich song
That gushes from her breast,
And hushes all wild Passion's throng
"The Angels Of Earth" by James Avis Bartley
I hear a twittering of birds,
And now they burst in song.
How sweet, although it wants the words!
It shall not want them long,
For I will set some to the note
Which bubbles from the thrush's throat.
"Dawn Song" by Robert Fuller Murray
It was a bonzer day! The thrush's song
Rose like a nymn. A touch uv queer remorse
Gits me fer 'arf-a-mo', then goes all wrong.
Women don't understand, it's all too plain.
Termarter sorce, she sez, an' me in pain!
"Termarter Sorce" by C J Dennis
All to herself a woman never sings
A happy song. Oh no! but it is so
As when the thrush has closed down his wings
Within the wood, and hears his hidden woe
From his own bill fill aisles of leaves, and go
About the wood and come to him again.
"Life's Priestess" by Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
I had loved the pretty birds that by my window sung—
The gentle thrush that had his nest the perfumed pines among;
The chaffinch with his sudden note, his song so clear and bold;
The sad rhyme of the robin, too, that came when winds grew cold;
"The Sea-Mew" by Dora Sigerson Shorter
For, ancient and new, you are flame, you are dust, you are spirit and dew,
Swirled into flesh, and the winds of the world are your breath!
The song of the thrush in the hush of the dawn is not younger than you —
And yet you are older than Death!
"Vision" by John Gneisenau Neihardt
Skylarks and song thrushes failed to thrive, but the enormity of his success with starlings continues to haunt us.
The song birds include the Northern shrike, winter wren, ruby-crowned kinglet, golden-crowned kinglet, varied thrush, yellow-rumped warbler and sparrows.