“… A lofty place he does not love,
But sits by choice, and well at ease,
In hedges and in little trees…
and there he sings
Till all the field with pleasure rings …”
~Henry Van Dyke

“… His suit is Quaker brown and gray,
With darker patches at his throat;
And yet of all the well-dressed throng
Not one can sing so brave a song …”
~Henry Van Dyke