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 Hail to thee blithe Spirit!
 Bird thou never wert,
  That from Heaven, or near it,
  read more 
 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. 
 The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
 The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
  Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
 read more 
 The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
 The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
  Come, darkness, moonrise, everything
   That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
    Come, so ye wake the nightingale. 
 Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
 Then, when the gloaming comes,
  Low in the heather blooms
  read more 
 Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
 Then, when the gloaming comes,
  Low in the heather blooms
   Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
    Emblem of happiness,
     Blest is thy swelling-place--
      O, to abide in the desert with thee! 
 Better than all measures
 Of delightful sound,
  Better than all treasures
   That in books read more 
 Better than all measures
 Of delightful sound,
  Better than all treasures
   That in books are found,
    Thy skilled to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! 
 It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
 Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.  
 It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
 Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. 
 None but the lark so shrill and clear;
 Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
  The read more 
 None but the lark so shrill and clear;
 Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
  The morn not waking till she sings. 
 The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build
 Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.  
 The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build
 Her humble nest, lies silent in the field. 
 O happy skylark springing
 Up to the broad, blue sky,
  Too fearless in thy winging,
  read more 
 O happy skylark springing
 Up to the broad, blue sky,
  Too fearless in thy winging,
   Too gladsome in thy singing,
    Thou also soon shalt lie
     Where no sweet notes are ringing. 
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
  The bird of read more 
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
  The bird of dawning singeth all night long,
   And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
    The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
     No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm.
      So hallowed and so gracious is that time.