noon
Robinson 's merriment was interrupted by a harsh remonstrance from several of the diggers , who were all from the other end of the camp . `` Hold your -- cackle , '' cried one , `` he is going to sing ; '' and the whole party had their eyes turned with expectation toward the bird . Like most singers , he kept them waiting a bit . But at last , just at noon , when the mistress of the house had warranted him to sing , the little feathered exile began as it were to tune his pipes . The savage men gathered round the cage that moment , and amid a dead stillness the bird uttered some very uncertain chirps , but after a while he seemed to revive his memories , and call his ancient cadences back him to one by one , and string them sotto voce . And then the same sun that had warmed his little heart at home came glowing down on him here , and he gave music back for it more and more , till at last -- amid breathless silence and glistening eyes of the rough diggers hanging on his voice -- out burst in that distant land his English song . It swelled his little throat and gushed from him with thrilling force and plenty , and every time he checked his song to think of its theme , the green meadows , the quiet stealing streams , the clover he first soared from , and the spring he sang so well , a loud sigh from many a rough bosom , many a wild and wicked heart , told how tight the listeners had held their breath to hear him ; and when he swelled with song again , and poured with all his soul the green meadows , the quiet brooks , the honey clover and the English spring , the rugged mouths opened and so stayed , and the shaggy lips trembled , and more than one drop trickled from fierce unbridled hearts down bronzed and rugged cheeks .