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When on a Summer's Morn
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.
W.H. Davies
My favorite weather is bird-chirping weather.
~Loire Hartwould
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China's Beijing Duck Restaurant can seat 9,000 people at one time.
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