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 William Wordsworth once said...

I heard a Stock-dove sing or say His homely tale, this very day; His voice was buried among trees, Yet to be come at by the breeze: He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed: And somewhat pensively he wooed: He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song,--the song for me!

In Doves Quotes, by William Wordsworth , Source: O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art

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