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470
TO A SKYLARK.
Quiverer up the golden air,
Nested in a golden earth,
Mate of hours when thrushes pair,
Hedges green and blooms have birth,
Up! thou very shout of joy!
Gladness wert thou made to fling
O'er all moods of Earth's annoy;
Up! through morning, soar and sing.
Nested in a golden earth,
Mate of hours when thrushes pair,
Hedges green and blooms have birth,
Up! thou very shout of joy!
Gladness wert thou made to fling
O'er all moods of Earth's annoy;
Up! through morning, soar and sing.
Shade by shade hath gloom decreast;
Westward, stars and night have gone;
Up and up the crimsoning east
Slowly mounts the golden dawn;
Up! thy radiant life was given
Rapture over earth to fling;
Morning hushes; hushed is heaven,
Dumb to hear thee soaring sing.
Westward, stars and night have gone;
Up and up the crimsoning east
Slowly mounts the golden dawn;
Up! thy radiant life was given
Rapture over earth to fling;
Morning hushes; hushed is heaven,
Dumb to hear thee soaring sing.
Up! thy utterance, silence, robs
Of the ecstasies of Earth;
Dowering sound with all the throbs
Of its madness—of its mirth;
Trancèd lies its golden prime,
Dumb with utter joy; oh, fling
Listening air the raptured time!
Quivering gladness, soar and sing.
Of the ecstasies of Earth;
Dowering sound with all the throbs
Of its madness—of its mirth;
Trancèd lies its golden prime,
Dumb with utter joy; oh, fling
Listening air the raptured time!
Quivering gladness, soar and sing.
Up! no white star hath the west;
All is morning—all is day;
Earth in trembling light lies blest;
Heaven is sunshine—up! away
Up! the primrose lights the lane;
Up! the boughs with gladness ring;
Bent are bright-belled flowers again,
Drooped with bees; oh, soar and sing!
All is morning—all is day;
Earth in trembling light lies blest;
Heaven is sunshine—up! away
Up! the primrose lights the lane;
Up! the boughs with gladness ring;
Bent are bright-belled flowers again,
Drooped with bees; oh, soar and sing!
Ah! at last thou beat'st the sun,
Leaving, low, thy nest of love;
Higher, higher, quivering one,
Shrill'st thou up and up above;
Wheel on wheel, the white day through,
Might I thus with ceaseless wing,
Steep on steep of airy blue
Fling me up and soar and sing!
Leaving, low, thy nest of love;
471
Shrill'st thou up and up above;
Wheel on wheel, the white day through,
Might I thus with ceaseless wing,
Steep on steep of airy blue
Fling me up and soar and sing!
Spurner of the Earth's annoy,
Might I thus in Heaven be lost!
Like to thee, in gusty joy,
Oh, might I be tempest-tost!
Oh, that the melodious rain
Of thy rapture, I might fling
Down, till Earth should swoon from pain—
Joy—to hear me soaring sing!
Might I thus in Heaven be lost!
Like to thee, in gusty joy,
Oh, might I be tempest-tost!
Oh, that the melodious rain
Of thy rapture, I might fling
Down, till Earth should swoon from pain—
Joy—to hear me soaring sing!
Yet, high wisdom by thee taught,
Were thy mighty rapture mine,
While the highest heaven I sought,
Nought of Earth would I resign;
Lost in circling light above,
Still my love to Earth should fling
All its raptures—still to love,
Caring but to soar and sing.
Were thy mighty rapture mine,
While the highest heaven I sought,
Nought of Earth would I resign;
Lost in circling light above,
Still my love to Earth should fling
All its raptures—still to love,
Caring but to soar and sing.
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