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Hail to thee blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. - Percy Bysshe Shelley, To a Skylark (st. 20) Up springs the lark, Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn; Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations. - James Thomson (1), Seasons--Spring (l. 587) The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build Her humble nest, lies silent in the field. - Edmund Waller, Of the Queen Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still! - William Wordsworth, Poems of the Imagination--To a Skylark Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine: When thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine: Type of the wise who soar, but never roam: True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home! - William Wordsworth, Poems of the Imagination--To a Skylark Displaying page 2 of 2 for this topic: << Prev 1 [2]
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