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Then from the neighboring thicket the mockingbird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water. Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline (pt. II, st. 2) Living echo, bird of eve, Hush thy wailing, cease to grieve; Pretty warbler; wake the grove To notes of joy, to songs of love. - Thomas Morton Winged mimic of the woods! thou motley fool! Who shall thy gay buffoonery describe? Thine ever-ready notes of ridicule Pursue thy fellows still with jest and jibe: Wit, sophist, songster, Yorick of thy tribe; Thou sportive satirist of Nature's school; To thee the palm of scoffing we ascribe, Arch-mocker and mad abbot of misrule! - Robert Wilde (Wild or Wylde), Sonnet--To the Mocking-Bird
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