The Woodlark

Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:┬░
O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio : there again!
So tiny a trickle of song-strain
And all round not to be found
For brier, bough, furrow, or green ground
Before or behind or far or at hand
Either left either right
Anywhere in the sunlight.
Well, after all! Ah but hark —
" I am the little woodlark.

Today the sky is two and two
With white strokes and strains of the blue

Round a ring, around a ring
And while I sail (must listen) I sing

The skylark is my cousin and he
Is known to men more than me

. . . when the cry within
Says Go on then I go on
Till the longing is less and the good gone

But down drop, if it says Stop,
To the all-a-leaf of the treetop
And after that off the bough

I am so very, O so very glad
That I do think there is not to be had

The blue wheat-acre is underneath┬░
And the corn is corded and shoulders its sheaf,┬░
The ear in milk, lush the sash,
And crush-silk poppies aflash,
The blood-gush blade-gash
Flame-rash rudred
Bud shelling or broad-shed

Tatter-tangled and dingle-a-dangled
Dandy-hung dainty head.

And down . . . the furrow dry
Sunspurge and oxeye┬░
And lace-leaved lovely
Foam-tuft fumitory┬░

Through the velvety wind V-winged
To the nest's nook I balance and buoy
With a sweet joy of a sweet joy,
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy
Of a sweet — a sweet — sweet — joy."
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