• WordNet 3.6
    • n throstle common Old World thrush noted for its song
    • n throstle a spinning machine formerly used to twist and wind fibers of cotton or wool continuously
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Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary
    • Throstle A machine for spinning wool, cotton, etc., from the rove, consisting of a set of drawing rollers with bobbins and flyers, and differing from the mule in having the twisting apparatus stationary and the processes continuous; -- so called because it makes a singing noise.
    • Throstle (Zoöl) The song thrush. See under Song.
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Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia
    • n throstle A thrush; especially, the song-thrush or mavis, Turdus musicus. See thrasher, and cut under thrush.
    • n throstle A machine for spinning wool, cotton, etc., from the rove, consisting of a set of drawing-rollers with bobbins and fliers, and differing from the mule in having the twisting-apparatus stationary, and also in that it twists and winds simultaneously and continuously. Yarn from the throstle is smooth, and is used for sewing-thread and the warp of heavy goods, while yarn from the mule is soft aud downy, and is used for the weft of heavy goods, and both warp and weft of light goods. Also called water-frame, because at first driven by water, and originating in the water-frame of Arkwright. See cut under water-frame. Also throstle-frame.
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Chambers's Twentieth Century Dictionary
    • n Throstle thros′l the song-thrush or mavis: a machine for twisting and winding fibres from roves, consisting of a set of drawing-rollers with bobbins and fliers—also Water-frame
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Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary
OE. throsel, AS. þrostle, þrosle,; akin to MHG. trostel, G. drossel, Icel. þröstr, Sw. trast, Lith. strazdas, L. turdus,. √238. Cf. Thrush the bird
Chambers's Twentieth Century Dictionary
A.S. throstle; Ger. drossel, L. turdus, a thrush.


In literature:

An' syne ye hear a throstle or a redbreast sing an' a saucy blackbird whustle.
"Greyfriars Bobby" by Eleanor Atkinson
There is a word throstle that expresses that.
"Ulysses" by James Joyce
Throstle and skylark to be admired must be heard at a distance.
"Birds in Town and Village" by W. H. Hudson
The throstle and the red-wing are delicate eating.
"The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction." by Various
Skylarks wakkens up first, then curlews, then blackbirds, robins, throstles.
"More Tales of the Ridings" by Frederic Moorman
What a throstle-pipe you have!
"Little Novels of Italy" by Maurice Henry Hewlett
What of the throstle and the lark?
"My Studio Neighbors" by William Hamilton Gibson
All this meant victory for his dearest hopes, and so he leapt to his feet, and marched off whistling like the throstle.
"Bulldog And Butterfly" by David Christie Murray
A jolly old throstle is singing away in the elm which overhangs the parson's gate.
"Despair's Last Journey" by David Christie Murray
You sing like a throstle.
"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 104, June, 1866" by Various

In poetry:

Blow what wind will, thou dost rejoice
To carol, and build, and woo.
Throstle! to me impart thy voice;
Impart thy wisdom too.
"A March Minstrel" by Alfred Austin
And, "Sweetheart, hast thou waited long?"
And, "Nay, love, but a little space:"
Then was it but the throstle's song,
Or lovers face to face?
"Anne Hathaway" by Anna Johnston MacManus
Between the blossoms red and white,
O merrily the throstle sings!
My love first came into my sight,
O perfect vision of delight,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
"From Spring Days to Winter (For Music)" by Oscar Wilde
Young men will love thee more fair and more fast;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
Old men's love the longest will last,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
"Davie Gellatley's Song" by Sir Walter Scott
In the glad springtime when leaves were green,
O merrily the throstle sings!
I sought, amid the tangled sheen,
Love whom mine eyes had never seen,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
"From Spring Days to Winter (For Music)" by Oscar Wilde
There's a green glen in Eirinn,
A green glen in Eirinn!
Where on a dew-wet swinging spray brown throstles trilled above,
And the blackbird carolled after in a silver rain of laughter,
And the little linnet piped its song that has no theme but Love.
"A Glen Song" by Anna Johnston MacManus