“A thousand Marys lured me,
To feathered beds and fields of glover,
Bird with crooked wing cast,
Its wicked shadow over,
A bauble moon did mock,
And trinket stars did smile,
Your funeral, my trial.”

Song lyrics, Your Funeral… My Trial (1986), Your Funeral… My Trial

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Nick Cave96

Australian musician 1957

Francis William Bourdillon (1852–1921) British poet

" The Chantry Of The Cherubim http://www.bartleby.com/236/219.html" in The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse (1917) by D. H. S. Nicholson. Context: p>I walk as one unclothed of flesh, I wash my spirit clean; I see old miracles afresh, And wonders yet unseen. I will not leave Thee till Thou give Some word whereby my soul may live!I listened — but no voice I heard; I looked — no likeness saw; Slowly the joy of flower and bird Did like a tide withdraw; And in the heaven a silent star Smiled on me, infinitely far.</p

“So feast your eyes now
On mimic star and moon-cold bauble:
Worlds may wither unseen,
But the Christmas Tree is a tree of fable,
A phoenix in evergreen”

Cecil Day Lewis (1904–1972) English poet

The Christmas Tree (1953)

“Do all you can to become a bird of the Way to God;
Do all you can to develop your wings and your feathers.”

Attar of Nishapur (1145–1230) Persian Sufi poet

"In the Dead of Night" as translated by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut in Perfume of the Desert

“Why did I become a writer? A bird's feather on my windowpane in winter and all at once there arose in my heart a battle of embers never to subside again.”

René Char (1907–1988) 20th-century French poet

A statement written soon after the end of World War II, as quoted in René Char : This Smoke That Carried Us : Selected Poems (2004) edited by Susanne Dubroff