 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE LITTLE RED LARK
Oh, swan of slenderness, dove of tenderness,Jewel of joys, arise!
The little red lark like a rosy spark
Of song to his sunburst flies.
But till thou art risen, earth is a prison
Full of my lonesome sighs;
Then awake and discover to thy fond lover
The morn of thy matchless eyes.
The dawn is dark to me; hark! oh, hark to me,
Pulse of my heart, I pray!
And out of thy hiding with blushes gliding,
Dazzle me with thy day.
Ah, then, once more to thee flying, I'll pour to thee
Passion so sweet and gay,
The lark shall listen and dewdrops glisten,
Laughing on every spray.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |