DBpedia – Linked Data Fragments

Matches in DBpedia 2015-10 for { ?s ?p "Thou too hast travell'd, little fluttering thing— Hast seen the world, and now thy weary wing Thou too must rest. But much, my little bird, couldst thou but tell, I 'd give to know why here thou lik'st so well To build thy nest. For thou hast pass'd fair places in thy flight; A world lay all beneath thee where to light; And, strange thy taste, Of all the varied scenes that met thine eye, Of all the spots for building 'neath the sky, To choose this waste. Did fortune try thee? was thy little purse Perchance run low, and thou, afraid of worse, Felt here secure? Ah, no! thou need'st not gold, thou happy one! Thou know'st it not. Of all God's creatures, man Alone is poor. What was it, then? some mystic turn of thought Caught under German eaves, and hither brought, Marring thine eye For the world's loveliness, till thou art grown A sober thing that dost but mope and moan, Not knowing why? Nay, if thy mind be sound, I need not ask, Since here I see thee working at thy task With wing and beak. A well-laid scheme doth that small head contain, At which thou work'st, brave bird, with might and main, Nor more need'st seek. In truth, I rather take it thou hast got By instinct wise much sense about thy lot, And hast small care Whether an Eden or a desert be Thy home, so thou remainst alive, and free To skim the air. God speed thee, pretty bird; may thy small nest With little ones all in good time be blest. I love thee much; For well thou managest that life of thine, While I! Oh, ask not what I do with mine! Would I were such!"@en }

• Craigenputtock quote "Thou too hast travell'd, little fluttering thing— Hast seen the world, and now thy weary wing Thou too must rest. But much, my little bird, couldst thou but tell, I 'd give to know why here thou lik'st so well To build thy nest. For thou hast pass'd fair places in thy flight; A world lay all beneath thee where to light; And, strange thy taste, Of all the varied scenes that met thine eye, Of all the spots for building 'neath the sky, To choose this waste. Did fortune try thee? was thy little purse Perchance run low, and thou, afraid of worse, Felt here secure? Ah, no! thou need'st not gold, thou happy one! Thou know'st it not. Of all God's creatures, man Alone is poor. What was it, then? some mystic turn of thought Caught under German eaves, and hither brought, Marring thine eye For the world's loveliness, till thou art grown A sober thing that dost but mope and moan, Not knowing why? Nay, if thy mind be sound, I need not ask, Since here I see thee working at thy task With wing and beak. A well-laid scheme doth that small head contain, At which thou work'st, brave bird, with might and main, Nor more need'st seek. In truth, I rather take it thou hast got By instinct wise much sense about thy lot, And hast small care Whether an Eden or a desert be Thy home, so thou remainst alive, and free To skim the air. God speed thee, pretty bird; may thy small nest With little ones all in good time be blest. I love thee much; For well thou managest that life of thine, While I! Oh, ask not what I do with mine! Would I were such!".