ELIZA:
You liked ... But come, I’ll set
Your chair outside, where you can feel the sun;
And hearken to the curlew; and be the first
To welcome Jim and Phœbe as man and wife.
Come!

EZRA:
Are the curlew calling?

ELIZA:
Calling? Ay!
And they’ve been at it all the blessed day,
As on the day I came to Krindlesyke.
Likely the new bride--though ’twasn’t at the time
I noticed them: too heedless and new-fangled.
She may be different: she may hear them now:
They’re noisy enough.

EZRA:
I cannot catch a note:
I’m getting old, and deaved as well as darkened.
When I was young, I liked to hear the whaups
Calling to one another down the slacks:
And I could whistle, too, like any curlew.
’Twas an ancient bird wouldn’t answer my call: and now
I’m ancient myself--an old, blind, doddering heron,
Dozing his day out in a syke, while minnows
Play tiggy round his shanks and nibble his toes;