Quotes
Quotes about Singing
For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and singing of anthems.
A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
Let the singing singers
With vocal voices, most vociferous,
In sweet vociferation out-vociferize
Even sound itself.
For ever singing as they shine,
The hand that made us is divine.
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
The Siren waits thee, singing song for song.
In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which sought through the world is ne'er met with elsewhere.
An exile from home splendour dazzles in vain,
Oh give me my lowly thatched cottage again;
The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,
Give me them, and that peace of mind dearer than all.
I have heard the mavis singing
Its love-song to the morn;
I 've seen the dew-drop clinging
To the rose just newly born.
My heart is like a singing bird.
What is more cheerful, now, in the fall of the year, than an open-wood-fire? Do you hear those little chirps and twitters coming out of that piece of apple-wood? Those are the ghosts of the robins and blue-birds that sang upon the bough when it was in blossom last Spring. In Summer whole flocks of them come fluttering about the fruit-trees under the window: so I have singing birds all the year round.
On a tree by a river a little tomtit
Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow"
And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit
Singing ‘Willow, titwillow, titwillow?'
"Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried,
"Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?"
With a shake of his poor little head he replied,
"Oh, Willow, titwillow, titwillow!"
The gods are growing old;
The stars are singing Golden hair to gray
Green leaf to yellow leaf,--or chlorophyl
To xanthophyl, to be more scientific.
There was music all about us, we were growing quite forgetful
We were only singing seamen from the dirt of Londontown.
For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
Popularity is a siren singing on a rock. It is never a thing to be aimed for, not in my opinion
If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come.
The Ants and the Grasshopper THE ANTS were spending a fine winter's day drying grain collected in the summertime. A Grasshopper, perishing with famine, passed by and earnestly begged for a little food. The Ants inquired of him, Why did you not treasure up food during the summer?' He replied, I had not leisure enough. I passed the days in singing. They then said in derision: If you were foolish enough to sing all the summer, you must dance supperless to bed in the winter. It is thrifty to prepare today for the wants of tomorrow.
The Ant and the Grasshopper In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart's content. An Ant passed by, bearing along with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest. Why not come and chat with me, said the Grasshopper, instead of toiling and moiling in that way? I am helping to lay up food for the winter, said the Ant, and recommend you to do the same. Why bother about winter? said the Grasshopper; we have got plenty of food at present. But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil. When the winter came the Grasshopper had no food and found itself dying of hunger, while it saw the ants distributing every day corn and grain from the stores they had collected in the summer. Then the Grasshopper knew: It is best to prepare for the days of necessity.
The worst feature of a new baby is its mother's singing.
Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavor in continual motion; To which is fixed as an aim or butt Obedience; for so work the honeybees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king, and officers of sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home, Others like merchants venture trade abroad, Others like soldiers armed in their stings Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor, Who, busied in his majesties, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone.
Out of the fragrant heart of bloom, The bobolinks are singing; Out of the fragrant heart of bloom The apple-tree whispers to the room, "Why art thou but a nest of gloom While the bobolinks are singing?"
Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones.
And so, his senses gradually wrapt In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds, And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark; That singest like an angel in the clouds.
Drinking will make a man quaff, Quaffing will make a man sing, Singing will make a man laugh, And laughing long life doth bring, Says old Simon the King. - Unattributed Author, Old Sir Simon the King,
