Had it been merely warm they would have been silent.

They do not sing in dry sunshine, but they knew what was coming; so that there is no note so hated by the haymaker as that of the thrush.

The birds were not in the firs, but in the ash-trees along the course of the rill.
The voice of the thrush is the most 'cultivated,' so to speak, of all our birds: the trills, the runs, the variations, are so numerous and contrasted.

Not even the nightingale can equal it: the nightingale has not nearly such command: the thrush seems to know no limit.

I own I love the blackbird best, but in excellence of varied music the thrush surpasses all.