The Skylark


Although I am in prison
Thy song is uprisen
And singing away to the cloud
In the blueness of morn
Over fields of green corn
With a song sweet rural and loud


When the day is serenest
When the corn is the greenest
Thy bosom mounts up to the light
And sings in the sun
Like a vision begun
Of Pleasure and lonely delight.


The daiseys they whiten
Plains where the suns brighten
And warmeth thy nest where thy russet eggs lie
From whence thou'rt now springing
And the air it is ringing
To show that the minstrel of spring is on high.


The cornflower is blooming
The cowslip is coming
And many new buds on the silken grass lie
On the earth's grassy breast
Thou hast left thy brown nest
And towering above it a speck in the sky.


Thou'rt the herald of sunshine
And the soft dewy moonshine
Gilds sweetly the sleep of thy brown speckled breast
Thou'rt the bard of the spring
On thy brown russet wing
And of each grassy close thou'rt the poet and guest.


There's the violet confiding
In the mossy wood riding
And primrose beneath the old thorn in the glen
And daiseys that go to bed
In the old sheltered homestead
Old friends with old faces I see them again.


And thou feathered poet
I see thee, and know it
Thou'rt one of the minstrels that cheered me last spring
With nature thou'rt blest
And green grass round thy nest
Will keep thee still happy to mount up and sing.
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