• When on a summer's morn I wake,
    And open my two eyes,
    Out to the clear, born-singing rills
    My bird-like spirit flies.

    To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush,
    Or any bird in song;
    And common leaves that hum all day
    Without a throat or tongue.

    And when Time strikes the hour for sleep,
    Back in my room alone,
    My heart has many a sweet bird's song -
    And one that's all my own.

    William Henry Davies, “When On A Summer's Morn”