C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Whip-poor-will

The moan of the whip-poor-will from the hillside; the boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary hooting of the screechowl.

Irving.

Where deep and misty shadows float
In forest’s depths is heard thy note.
Like a lost spirit, earthbound still,
Art thou, mysterious whip-poor-will.

Marie Le Baron.

But the whip-poor-will wails on the moor,
And day has deserted the west:
The moon glimmers down thro’ the vines at my door
And the robin has flown to her nest.

James G. Clarke.

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