Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.

Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.

For what good turn? Messenger: For the best turn of the bed.

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven

Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth

Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.

If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.