The Blackbird

By William Ernest Henley

The nightingale has a lyre of gold;
The lark’s is a clarion call,
And the blackbird plays but a box-wood flute,
But I love him best of all.
For his song is all of the joy of life,
And we in the mad, spring weather,
We too have listened till he sang
Our hearts and lips together.

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Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

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Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
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