The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud
	Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be.

Longfellow.    

	The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
	That it had it head bit off by it young.

Shakespeare.    

	Blithe wanderer of the wintry air,
	Now here, now there, now everywhere,
	Quick drifting to and fro,
	A cheerful life devoid of care,
	A shadow on the snow.

George W. Bungay.    

	And in thy own sermon, thou
	That the sparrow falls dost allow,
	It shall not cause me any alarm;
	For neither so comes the bird to harm,
	Seeing our Father, thou hast said,
	Is by the sparrow’s dying bed;
	Therefore it is a blessed place,
	And the sparrow in high grace.

George MacDonald.