 | The song of the lark |  |
TO
Isabelle McClung
On uplands,
At morning,
The world was young, the winds were free;
A garden fair,
In that blue desert air,
Its guest invited me to be.
| The song of the lark | |
| The song of the lark | |
TO
Isabelle McClung
On uplands,
At morning,
The world was young, the winds were free;
A garden fair,
In that blue desert air,
Its guest invited me to be.
| The song of the lark | |