Thy rivers' courses let me follow Where they leap the crags in their flight And where at dusk in caverns hollow They croon to music of the night.
"Poems"
Rainer Maria Rilke
Presently she tired of the contest, and clasping her knees began, without warning given, to croon a little song- Over the rim of the moor, And under a starry sky, Two men came to my door And rested them wearily.
"Major Vigoureux"
A. T. Quiller-Couch
On the old grey sundial the white-winged pigeons sleepily croon as they preen their snowy plumage, and the Madonna lilies hang their heads like a procession of white-robed nuns who dare not look up from telling their beads until the triumphal procession of an all-conquering warrior has gone by.
"A Book of Myths"
Jean Lang