Classic Poem

The sunny end of March is nigh
And not a cloud is in the sky
Along the footpath o'er the farm
The school-boy basket on his arm
Seeks the birds nest therein to look
He takes a stone to cross the brook
Made wider by the rainy night
And hums the music of delight
To see the rabits seek their burrow
Or ground lark from the fallow'd furrow
Start up and shiver while he sings
Then drop as though he'd lost his wings
As stunt and heavy as a stone
In the brown furrow still and lone
And still I love the ground-larks flight
Starting up the ploughmans height
And more and more unseal his eye
When rose leaves pave the eastern sky
To see the skylark as he springs
Shake mornings moisture from his wings
And rise and sing in music proud
Small as a bee beneath a cloud
'Till mixing with the vapours dun
He's lost in valleys of the sun
And singing on in springs delight
Some moments e're he comes in sight
It drops, and drops from breezy morn
To seek its mate amid the corn
A happy song the skylark brings
And spring's in every note he sings
With coppled crown, and speckled breast
The pilewort blooms above his nest
In rain it seeks the sheltering furrow
But sings when sunshine comes tomorrow
In every field they mount and sing
The songs of Nature and of Spring.