Classic Poem

No more of woeful Misery I sing!
Let her go moping down the pavéd way!
While to the sunny fields, to everything
That laughs, and to the birds that sing,
I pass along and tune my happy lay!
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

I go at ease by the easy-sliding stream
As by a friend! I dance in solitude
Among the trees! Or lie and gaze and dream
Along the grass! Or hearken to the theme
A lark discourses to her tender brood!
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

There is a thrush lives snugly in a wall;
She lets me peep, unfeared, into her nest;
She lets me see and touch the speckled ball
Under her wing: and does not fear at all,
Although her shy companion is distressed:
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

Sing yet, sing once again, ye birds of joy!
Tell out from branch and bough the endless tale
Of happiness, that nothing can annoy;
What if your mates seem timorous and coy
If ye sing high enough how can ye fail
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

On every side, far as the eye can see,
The round horizon, like a bosom's swell,
Seems brooding in a sweet maternity,
Where no thing may be hurt! Not even me!
But she will stoop and kiss and make us well!
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!

I am the brother of each bird, and tree,
And everything that grows—your children glad!
Their hearts are in my heart, their ecstasy!
O Mother of all Mothers, comfort me!
Give me your breast for I am very sad!
O sunny sky!
O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by!