The Lark and the Thrush

O FROM too far, and from too high,
In too pure air above,
Doth the great Rhapsodist of the Sky
Utter melodious love.

Bird that from yonder branch dost pour
Songs of less heavenly birth,
'Tis thine, 'tis thine, that pierce me more,
Sweet Rhapsodist of the Earth.
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