 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
THE FLYING CLOUD.
The flying cloud, the flying cloud
Is coursing o'er the sky,
The flying cloud, the flying cloud
Is sparkling bright and high,
The soaring lark on matin wing
Is singing high and loud,
But e'en the soaring lark can't reach
That lofty flying cloud!
Is coursing o'er the sky,
The flying cloud, the flying cloud
Is sparkling bright and high,
The soaring lark on matin wing
Is singing high and loud,
But e'en the soaring lark can't reach
That lofty flying cloud!
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Oh! once my heart was like that lark,
And sang as bright and loud,
And hope was high in youth's fair sky—
Just like yon flying cloud
By fancy fir'd, this heart aspir'd
More high than Fate allow'd,
But now its weary wing is tir'd—
And gone Hope's flying cloud!
And sang as bright and loud,
And hope was high in youth's fair sky—
Just like yon flying cloud
By fancy fir'd, this heart aspir'd
More high than Fate allow'd,
But now its weary wing is tir'd—
And gone Hope's flying cloud!
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |