Pansy,
Danger Cliff, and other stories
(1884)
“ But you should see her when Mornie—that's the homely bird's name—makes up his mind to sing. She retires to the most distant corner of her cage, curls herself up in a still little heap, puts her head on one side, and listens without the flutter of a feather. Either I imagine it or there really does come a sad look in her eyes, as though she thought she would give all the yellow in her lovely tail if she could sing like that.Oh, how he sings! Sometimes like a canary, sometimes like a wood-robin in a spring morning, sometimes like the true mate of the pretty little goldfinch herself. ”
