 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Charade No. 8.
Soon the hour of dawn shall pass,
Clear and loud the lark is singing;
Swiftly through the waving grass
Now my bright-eyed first is springing.
Clear and loud the lark is singing;
Swiftly through the waving grass
Now my bright-eyed first is springing.
Down the still and shadowy dale
Floats my second, sweetly telling,
‘Morning lifts her misty veil,
Spectral darkness soon dispelling.’
Floats my second, sweetly telling,
‘Morning lifts her misty veil,
Spectral darkness soon dispelling.’
Far remote from beaten way,
Now my dewy whole is bending;
And where summer breezes play
Sweetness to their breath is lending.
Now my dewy whole is bending;
And where summer breezes play
Sweetness to their breath is lending.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |