 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
The Skylark
OR, A WELCOME TO SPRING
A truce at last to biting cold,
And cumbering wreaths of drifted snow;
The leaden clouds, asunder rolled,
Allow sweet Heaven its face to show:
The happy earth is all aglow
With sunbeams showered on hill and plain;
The lambs are in the fields below,
The lark is in the sky again!
And cumbering wreaths of drifted snow;
The leaden clouds, asunder rolled,
Allow sweet Heaven its face to show:
15
With sunbeams showered on hill and plain;
The lambs are in the fields below,
The lark is in the sky again!
On the tree tops, the chiff-chaff bold,
With cheery note flits to and fro,
Herald of melodies untold
Which April airs o'er ocean blow;
From faithful merle and mavis flow
The long-pent raptures of their strain,
And I too sing, as on I go,
“The lark is in the sky again.”
With cheery note flits to and fro,
Herald of melodies untold
Which April airs o'er ocean blow;
From faithful merle and mavis flow
The long-pent raptures of their strain,
And I too sing, as on I go,
“The lark is in the sky again.”
I dream no more that I am old,
No more I move with footstep slow;
The furrows on my brow unfold,
Am I not younger than I know?
Upon the cloud I see the bow
Which glorifies life's day of rain;
Amid the grass the violets grow;
The lark is in the sky again!
No more I move with footstep slow;
The furrows on my brow unfold,
Am I not younger than I know?
Upon the cloud I see the bow
Which glorifies life's day of rain;
Amid the grass the violets grow;
The lark is in the sky again!
Oh, thank the Love to which we owe
The buoyant throb of heart and brain
Shall we be sad in Spring-time? No—
The lark is in the sky again!
The buoyant throb of heart and brain
Shall we be sad in Spring-time? No—
The lark is in the sky again!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |