Charles H. Spurgeon on Psalms 104:12

The fowls of the heaven which sing among the branches. How do the blackbird and thrassel thrush, with their melodious voices, bid welcome to the cheerful spring, and in their fixed months warble forth such ditties as no art or instrument can reach to? ... But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it makes mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, "Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when you afford bad men such music on earth?" —Izaak Walton.

Verse 12.

While over their heads the hazels hing,

The little birdies blithely sing,

Or lightly flit on wanton wing

In the birks of Aberfeldy.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,

The foaming stream deep roaring fa's,

Overhung with fragrant spreading shaws,

The birks of Aberfeldy. Robert Burns, 1759-1796.